Never Again
by Enthusiastic Fish
Summary: Sequel to Just Once More. Tim has been off drugs for two years, but his past is always with him. When a new case comes up, it's his chance to use his former lifestyle to help solve a murder. Everyone is worried about it but for what reasons? Already complete. 20 chapters plus an epilogue.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** A couple of years ago, I wrote a story called _Just Once More_ about Tim being a drug addict. When the story ended, I felt like there was more to tell, but I had to figure out how to tell it. Well, it took a while, but I did. You should probably read _Just Once More _to understand why this story was necessary, but if you don't want to, all you really need to know is that Tim was addicted to temazepam (a benzodiazepine) and he was off them by the end of the story. I started it as an entry for the NFA Sicknesses and Addictions challenge, but I didn't get it done by the deadline; so it's only inspired by the challenge.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own NCIS and I'm not making money off this story.

* * *

**Never Again  
**by Enthusiastic Fish

**Chapter 1**

_Just a few more hours. Three more hours, Tim. You can last three more hours._

Tim didn't often engage in counting down the time until he could leave, but today was one of those days. He'd felt off all day long and now, he was starting to feel genuinely ill. Breakfast had consisted of half a cup of coffee...and the rest wasted when he tossed his cup in the garbage upon his arrival at NCIS. Lunch had been...water. Now, with more time passing, Tim had estimated when they'd be able to leave. There was no way he was surviving another day of work if he started feeling worse. He seemed to have the beginnings of a stomachache...and it looked to be building up to a bad one if the onset was any indication.

He sighed and tried to focus on the screen.

"Probie?"

The words started to blur as his eyes decided not to focus again.

"McGee?"

_Focus, Tim. There's work to do. You can be sick later!_

"Tim!"

Tim jerked his head up.

"Yeah?"

"You okay?"

"Yeah...no," Tim confessed. "But I'll survive."

"What is it? I noticed that you did not eat lunch this afternoon," Ziva said.

"Not hungry," Tim said...and then there was an awkward moment of silence as the three looked at each other. "I think I'm coming down with something," he said to push past what they were all thinking. "I'll be fine."

"You're sure?" Tony asked. "I'm going to get something for dinner."

Tim's stomach turned at the thought of eating. "No, Tony. I don't think I want to eat anything."

"You should eat _something_, McGee," Ziva said.

"Not if I'll just throw it up later."

"You feeling that sick?"

"No, but I think I might be headed that way...but I'm not going to keel over."

"You sure you don't want anything?"

"Positive," Tim said.

That was the end of it, although inside he winced at those few seconds. They hadn't been much, hadn't lasted long, but they still happened sometimes. The question that always arose at anything unexpected in Tim's life. Never verbally expressed but always heard nonetheless.

_Is Tim relapsing?_

Tim returned to the computer and tried to think past the growing ache in his stomach. When Tony came back twenty minutes later with some sandwiches, the smell made Tim feel definitely sick. He stood up and ran for the men's room.

There was little in his stomach to begin with, but he got rid of it all...and then some.

The door to the men's room opened while he was sitting on the floor, deciding whether or not he was truly done.

"McGee?" Tony didn't come into the stall, choosing to maintain a discrete distance. Tim was actually grateful for that.

He cleared his throat and then spat into the toilet.

"Yeah?"

"You all right?"

"Obviously not."

"You know what I mean."

"I feel like crap, Tony," Tim said, too miserable to express appreciation for Tony's concern.

"You should go home, then."

"No. I'm not that sick. It's just..."

"Just what?"

A long pause and then Tim said what they had all been thinking. "I'm not using drugs, Tony. I'm just sick."

Another long pause. Tim knew that Tony was deciding whether or not to deny that was what he'd been thinking.

"I'm sorry, Tim."

"Don't be. It happens. I promise. It's not drugs. Clean as a whistle for two years now."

Then, the bile rose again and Tim realized that his stomach was _not_ done. He leaned forward, retching, and threw up again. When he'd finished, he didn't feel any better. In fact, he felt worse...but he didn't think he was going to throw up again. Shaking, he reached out and flushed the toilet before getting to his feet and stumbling out to the sink.

"I think you're ready to go home, McGee."

"Maybe you're right," Tim mumbled, leaning over the sink. "It's your fault, you know."

"_My_ fault!"

"Yeah. If you hadn't brought any food into the bullpen." Tim raised his eyes from the sink and met Tony's gaze in the mirror. He smiled.

Tony laughed. "Not my fault you have such a weak stomach." Then, his smiled faded. "Seriously, McGee. This is the second time you've been sick in the last couple of weeks."

"It was a twenty-four hour stomach flu last time, Tony. Maybe I ate something that didn't agree with me yesterday."

"Okay, okay. You really should go home, though. You look terrible."

"Thanks a lot. You've done wonders for my self esteem," Tim said, but he couldn't deny that Tony was right. He looked horrible. He felt worse. It was time to give in to his illness and fight another day. "Today is definitely not my day."

"Tomorrow's not looking good either?"

"Nope."

"You okay to drive?"

"Yeah. Is Gibbs out there?"

"Yeah. You want me to tell him?"

"No. I will. I have to get my stuff anyway." Tim rubbed at his stomach and straightened.

He and Tony walked back to the bullpen together and Tim told Gibbs he was leaving and that he'd probably still be feeling bad tomorrow. Gibbs' easy agreement told Tim that he either looked worse than he thought or Gibbs was in a strangely amenable mood. Regardless, Tim went home...and spent a miserable night in bed. His stomachache didn't improve. It got worse and worse as the hours passed even with the ibuprofen he decided to take. Still, he hoped that it would just go away after a few hours.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

By morning, the ache could no longer be described as merely an ache. It was definitely pain, and Tim was incredibly miserable. He felt sick, like he was going to throw up which went along nicely with the abdominal pain and he was pretty sure he had a fever.

Tony called him to see how he was doing, and Tim debated even moving to answer the phone since movement of any kind seemed to make the pain worse.

"McGee," he said.

"_Man, Tim, you sound terrible."_

"I feel terrible."

"_Worse than yesterday?"_

"Much."

"_Maybe you should see a doctor then."_

"It's probably..." A particularly sharp pain stopped Tim mid-sentence.

"_Okay, if you're hurting that bad, Probie, you're going to a doctor."_

"Tony...I don't..."

"_No way, Probie. This is non-negotiable. You're going. I'll take you there myself."_

"I can drive myself, Tony," Tim said petulantly.

"_Yeah, right. If you don't let me give you a lift, I'll call Abby."_

"You wouldn't."

"_Try me."_

Tim sighed and then grimaced. If he were honest about it, he had to admit that this was a lot worse than he'd ever felt before...with a couple of exceptions. His cramps and pain when he was withdrawing from temazepam had been worse. Perhaps that comparison could explain his reluctance...and Tony's concern.

"Fine. Come on over."

"_Good."_

Tony hung up and Tim pulled himself out of bed, determined to look at least semi-presentable. However, he gave up after getting his sweats on. Every twist sent another stabbing pain through his abdomen. Jethro began weaving himself around Tim's legs, whining his own anxiety.

"Don't worry, Jethro," Tim said. "I'll be fine. You and me...we've been through worse, right?" He winced again. "Right." He sank down onto his computer chair and waited for Tony to arrive.

It seemed to take Tony forever to get there and Tim did not want to get up when the knock came. He clenched his teeth and stood up. The walk to the door seemed very long, but he opened it and managed a weak smile at Tony.

"Hey...how's it goin'?" he asked.

Tony didn't smile back. "McGee...you look awful. Why didn't you just go to the ER before?"

"It's probably nothing, Tony. Another bout of gastroenteritis or something."

"You really think it's something like that, McGee? You're looking a lot worse. Let's go."

"They're just going to send me home again," Tim said.

"Only if it's not serious. Come on."

Tim could see that there was no getting out of it. He nodded and let Tony lead him out to his car. The trip to the hospital was agonizing. Every jolt made his stomach hurt worse. He could swear all the pain had coalesced to a small area of his abdomen...choosing to attack in force rather than wreaking havoc on his entire torso. He wasn't sure which was worse.

"There's no way this is just a stomachache, McGee," Tony said as they neared the hospital.

"It could be."

Tony laughed. "You're kidding yourself. Have you ever had it this bad?"

"Once."

Tony didn't reply because he knew what Tim was talking about. A jolt brought a surprised exclamation from Tim's lips.

"Sorry, Tim."

"Yeah. It's okay...you can't control the roads."

They arrived at the hospital and Tim got out, his left arm wrapped around his stomach. Tony unassumingly helped Tim into the hospital.

They went in to triage. The ER was pretty busy, but for a wonder they only waited for half an hour before being seen by a nurse.

"All right, what's the trouble?"

"Stomachache," Tim said.

"He threw up yesterday and has been acting like it's killing him. It's more than a stomachache," Tony said.

"Tony," Tim said and winced.

"Is the pain localized?"

"Yeah. Here," Tim said, pointing at his right side.

The nurse continued the preliminary examination and then nodded. "Okay, let's get you registered and into an exam room. The doctor will be there soon."

"Okay." Tim looked at Tony. "Tony, you can go. I guess...I'll be here for a while."

"It's not like I have a job or anything, Probie. I can just..."

Tim smiled. "No, Tony. It's fine. Just go. I'm in good hands. Right?"

The nurse grinned. "We'll take good care of him."

"You sure you'll be all right, McGee?"

"Yeah. Just don't let Gibbs think I'm malingering. It's all your fault that I'm here."

Tony laughed. "I'll do that, McGee."

Tim watched him go and dropped the bravado as soon as Tony was out of the room. He sighed and closed his eyes.

"Whoa. You all right?"

"No. Just...keeping up appearances. Can't be too...much of a wuss. I'm...ready to go."

"All right. This way. We'll get some blood tests running and I'd like to get a urinalysis as well."

"Okay. So...I'm guessing you're not going for the...food poisoning or passing stomachache?"

"More than likely not."

"What then?"

"There are a lot of possibilities. The doctor will let you know his diagnosis when he gets here." The nurse got him sitting down in the exam room and then left.

Suddenly, Tim felt his stomach roiling uncomfortably. He looked around, saw a garbage can and staggered over to it, gagging and heaving. After almost a full day of eating nothing and drinking only water, he had very little to show for his body's efforts, but it did leave him shaking and quivering on the floor for a few minutes.

"Okay..." he whispered to himself. "Okay. This is worse. Much worse."

Tears formed in his eyes as the pain cycled between unbearable and wishing he were dead. In the hour it took for the ER doctor to get to him, he threw up, or at least went through the motions of throwing up, six times.

The doctor took one look at him and his expression turned grave.

"Mr. McGee?"

Tim nodded.

"Okay. I'm Dr. Weimann. We've got your tests back. I think I know what we're dealing with here, but let me do a physical exam and be sure."

Tim nodded again.

"Have you been vomiting?"

Tim smiled a little. "I...would have been...if I'd had anything to throw up."

"Right. Okay." The doctor pressed painfully on Tim's abdomen...exactly where it hurt the most and Tim moaned. "Okay. Mr. McGee, based on your blood tests and urinalysis, I think it's pretty clear."

"What?"

"You're suffering from appendicitis and I'd bet it was fairly far along. I'm going to get a surgeon in here and we'll get you going."

"Surgery?" Tim asked, suddenly feeling about a hundred times worse.

"Yes, that's the only treatment for appendicitis. We'll give you a general anesthetic and perform an appendectomy. It's not a complicated procedure. It only takes a couple of hours."

Tim looked at the doctor, frightened. "NO!"


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Tony had relayed the message about Tim being ill enough to warrant a trip to the hospital. No one was asking, but everyone was secretly wondering. This was the first time in two years that Tim had done something drastically unexpected...and there had been his previous stomach ailment not long ago. ...and he'd stopped eating before...and...

...but no one was saying it. No one was admitting to thinking it. It was no longer the big elephant in the room. The elephant was a lot smaller...but it was still there. They were all thinking and wondering...and not speaking.

Then, Gibbs' phone rang. As he answered, he noticed Tony and Ziva both watching intently. They were expecting something about Tim. It was patently obvious.

"Gibbs."

"_Is this Leroy Jethro Gibbs?"_

"Yes. Who is this?"

"_This is Dr. George Weimann. You're listed as the emergency medical contact for Timothy McGee?"_

"Yes. What is it?"

"_I need you to get to the hospital as soon as possible."_

"Why?"

"_Mr. McGee has appendicitis and he is refusing treatment. If he doesn't have surgery, he'll die but he is insisting that nothing be done. His shift was dramatic. Does he have a phobia of surgery? He didn't mention it to any of us."_

Gibbs was already on his feet, heading to the elevator. Ignoring Tony and Ziva as they asked him questions, he listened intently.

"No. Not that I'm aware of."

He waved Tony and Ziva back to their desks before the elevator doors closed.

"_Then, it's even more important that you come and talk to him. I think he'd leave if he wasn't in so much pain. We need to get the anesthesia started, but he is resisting even analgesics, as if he doesn't trust us not to start the surgery without his consent."_

"I'm on my way."

"_Thank you. Check in at the front desk and they'll send you back."_

Gibbs hung up and drove as fast as he could without worrying about getting pulled over. At the hospital, he hurried through the halls to Tim's room.

"Mr. Gibbs?"

Gibbs nodded.

"I'm Dr. Weimann."

"In there?"

"Yes, if you can get him to explain or convince him otherwise. There really is no other option. He'll die without surgery. Maybe not today, but soon, and he'll be in horrible pain the whole time. Surgery is the only treatment."

"Okay." Gibbs didn't waste any time. He opened the door and walked into the exam room. Tim was on the bed, obviously in extreme amounts of pain. He was sweaty, pale, and holding his abdomen, almost curled into a fetal position. "McGee."

Tim opened his eyes, panting and grimacing from the pain. "B-Boss. What are you...doing here?"

"What's going on, McGee?"

"It's...nothing."

"You have appendicitis."

"I know."

"You need surgery."

"No!" Tim said, almost shouting and then groaning and curling his body further inward. "No, I won't."

"You have to, McGee."

"No."

"Why not?"

"I can't."

Gibbs strode over to the bed. "Why." It wasn't a question. It was a demand.

Tim let out a loud gasp as a particularly strong stabbing pain hit him. It left him almost wheezing.

"Why, McGee. Because I'll tell you right now that there is no way I'm letting you die like this. No way. So you explain to me what's going on."

"Anesthesia," Tim gasped out.

"What about it?"

Another stab of pain. Gibbs grabbed Tim and lifted him up, ignoring the increased moans.

"What about it, McGee?"

"They...use...benzodiazepines."

Tears leaked from Tim's eyes and rolled down his cheeks as Gibbs let him back down. He didn't spend any time wondering how Tim knew what they used in anesthesia. Knowing him, he had probably searched out every place benzodiazepines might be found whether before or after getting clean. ...and now Gibbs understood why Tim wouldn't accept surgery. Fear of falling into the same trap again.

"Tim."

"...rather...die..."

"No. Why not just tell them?"

"That I'm... a drug addict?"

The other problem Tim still faced: guilt and shame over his previous actions.

"I'm no doctor, McGee, but you're getting that surgery. This is a stupid way to die." Gibbs turned around and walked out of the room. Dr. Weimann was waiting.

"Well?"

"You use benzodiazepines in anesthesia?"

Dr. Weimann looked at him in surprise. "Yes, we do. Midazolam. It's the standard premedication for anesthesia. Why?"

Gibbs lowered his voice. "McG..Tim was addicted to benzodiazepines. He's been clean for two years and is terrified of getting hooked on them again."

Comprehension dawned on Dr. Weimann's face. "I see. There's no risk, not with anesthesia. I don't know of a single case of a patient forming a dependence from general anesthesia."

"Don't tell _me_ that. Tell him."

Dr. Weimann nodded and quickly walked into the room.

"Mr. McGee?"

Tim looked at him but said nothing.

"You have nothing to fear from general anesthesia."

"No," Tim whimpered. "No."

"It's true. There's not one case of an addiction forming through a single use of benzodiazepines, not in _any_ situation, but particularly not in anesthesia."

Gibbs sat down by Tim. "McGee, there's no reason to think you'll get addicted again. None. How long were you using before? This is nothing like that. You have to let them operate."

Tim's eyes moved from Gibbs to the white scars covering his right arm and then back.

"That's not going to happen, McGee. ...but you _will_ die if you don't have surgery." Gibbs hesitated. "Don't make me see that happen."

A strong pain hit Tim and he let out a loud groan, curling in on himself in agony.

"Please, Tim."

Tim didn't speak, but he nodded. Dr. Weimann nodded with relief and hurried out to get everything ready. Gibbs started to stand, but Tim grabbed at him with a shaking and sweaty hand.

"No..." he gasped. "I...can't...do this, Boss."

Gibbs forced a smile. "You don't have to _do_ anything, McGee. Just sit there and let them do their jobs."

Tim did not smile. His face crumpled and he began to cry, shaking his head. "I...don't...want to..."

Gibbs sat back down. "You're not going to turn into an addict again, Tim. The doctor said so."

"Doesn't...know...for sure..."

"Yes, he does. He's the doctor. Not you. Not me."

"Scared..."

"I know. I know you are, but there's no reason to be. Just calm down and you'll be fine."

"Hurts...so much..."

"Not for long...but I'll stay here until you go into surgery. Okay?"

Tim nodded, teeth clenched, whole body rigid with pain. It was almost more than Gibbs could bear, sitting with Tim as they prepared him for surgery. It was only when Tim was out and his body relaxed...something that took longer than it should have because of his fear and the tension in his body...only then did Gibbs feel as though he could take a deep breath...and let the others know what was going on.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

The surgery took just over two hours. Dr. Weimann said that Tim's appendix was so inflamed that it would have burst probably within hours had they not removed it. Gibbs sat beside Tim, watching him as he slept. It was a relief to see him not suffering from the intense pain that had colored his last meeting. Tim didn't wake up for another hour, but when he did, he looked at Gibbs without speaking. There was exhaustion and fear in his eyes.

"McGee," Gibbs said.

Tim blinked and took a deep breath, wincing slightly, but not much other than that.

"How are you feeling?"

"Better," Tim said.

"That was stupid," Gibbs said, bluntly.

"Never again, Boss," Tim said, no apology in his voice. "I won't risk it."

"It wasn't a _risk_, McGee. It was your fear, not reality that was dictating what almost happened here. You could have _died_ because you wouldn't tell anyone what was wrong and because you allowed your fear to get the better of you. Are you going to tell me that you didn't see that there was no risk of becoming dependent on the anesthetic?"

"There's no differentiation between former addicts and normal people in the literature," Tim said. "I'm not willing to risk it, Boss. I won't. Ever. I became someone I hated and I didn't even realize that I'd done it. I'm not going to do that to myself again. I'd rather die than become an addict again."

"You don't have to become an addict because you had medical treatment."

Tim shook his head. He was still pale, but adamant. "People in the group sessions I attend are mostly made up of those who went to a doctor because they had a medical problem and became addicted to the very prescriptions they were given. Most people aren't like me and just stupidly used a drug to deal with normal life. They had a genuine illness, injury or other problem and used it like it was supposed to be used and became drug addicts! Who's to say that it won't happen to me?"

"Apparently, the doctors who are the experts."

Tim just shook his head again.

"Tim, you've got to get this in hand. What if something like this happens again and they can't get a hold of me?"

"I only have one appendix," Tim said.

_Thwack!_

"Don't joke about this. Not the time for it. What if something like this happens? Are you going to die just because you're too afraid to reveal the problem you used to have? Are you going to risk death just because you're afraid of what could happen, no matter how remote the chances are?"

Still, there was no sense of Tim backing off, realizing what danger he'd put himself in or the pointless nature of it.

"I will never put myself at risk of becoming an addict again, Boss," Tim said firmly. "Never. There is nothing that I wouldn't put on the line to avoid that. Nothing. I don't care what it is, even if it's my life. I never want to feel how I did when I was addicted to temazepam. Never again."

The door opened and Dr. Weimann came in to see how things were going. Gibbs didn't say anything, but he was now very worried about Tim's mindset. On the one hand, it was good that he was so determined to stay clean. On the other, it was frightening that he had no compunction about giving up his life if it meant he wouldn't be an addict.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Gibbs called back to NCIS and told everyone about Tim's appendicitis and his surgery...but not about his paranoia about becoming an addict again. That was something that should come from Tim, not from Gibbs. After talking with Dr. Weimann about Tim's recovery time, the success of the surgery and how long Tim would be staying in the hospital, Gibbs reluctantly returned to work, warning Tim that everyone would descend upon him in his room once they were able.

Then, he headed back to NCIS, prepared to answer a lot of anxious questions...and hoping to ask Ducky one or two of his own.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

It didn't take long for Tim to wake up completely. It surprised him how much better he felt. It was so soon after the surgery and his pain from before was nothing but a bad memory. ...and yet...

Dr. Weimann came in to check on him early in the afternoon.

"How are you feeling now, Mr. McGee?"

"Much better," Tim said. He looked out the window and then back. "Dr. Weimann?"

"Yes?"

"Could..." Tim stopped and looked down at the bed.

"What is it, Mr. McGee?"

"Could this have been...could it have happened because I was an addict?"

"Your appendicitis?"

"Yeah."

"No."

Tim was surprised by the categorical denial. He looked up.

"Why are you so sure?"

"Because what causes appendicitis is fairly well known. It's usually caused by either blockage of the appendix or some sort of infection. The blockage can be from stool and if the blockage is bad enough, it begins to prevent efficient function of the veins which eventually causes ischemia. Various kinds of fungi, viruses, bacteria, even some parasites...and sometimes cancer all can inflame the appendix and cause the infections leading to appendicitis. I've never heard of a drug addiction leading to appendicitis. Appendicitis is an inflammation caused by blockage and by infection. It's not due to drug use."

"Okay."

"Mr. McGee...have you talked to anyone about your fears?"

"I meet with a group still...every other week."

"That's not what I asked."

Tim was quiet for a few seconds. "The last time I had a cavity, I asked the dentist to fill it without using any anesthetics. I know that...that lidocaine isn't going to...to do anything but...but sometimes they use midazolam...and that's a benzodiazepine and...I don't want it ever to happen again." He took a quick breath. "I hurt so many people...including myself."

Dr. Weimann didn't respond right away and Tim couldn't muster the courage to look up at him.

"Mr. McGee...I'm concerned by what you're telling me. You know what the reality is, but it doesn't seem to matter. Any risk at all is too much of a risk. Is that right?"

Tim nodded.

"That kind of attitude is as dangerous as, if not more dangerous than your addiction. Every drug has some kind of side effect. Any drug can abused. Any drug can lead to overdose. Even the so-called natural homeopathic stuff some people rely on can lead to death if taken in the wrong way. Mr. McGee, you can't avoid it, and you're risking a lot more by your current attitude than you would be by simply being cautious. This isn't caution. This is irrational fear."

Tim swallowed hard. "I know," he whispered. "...but I became an addict...because I let my fear of failing take precedence over what I knew was right."

"Don't you see that you're doing the same thing now?"

Tim shook his head.

"Yes, Mr. McGee. Only this time, your fear of becoming an addict is taking precedence over your good sense. Now, you're a federal agent, correct?"

"Yeah."

"Are you ever in danger?"

"Sometimes."

"What if you got injured on the job? Would you allow the doctors to treat you or would you hold them off for fear of some vague risk of falling back into your addiction?"

Tim couldn't answer, even as he felt the visceral reaction to the possibility of getting doped up. Perhaps it showed on his face.

"You do realize, I hope, that you're on pain medication right now."

Tim shuddered and closed his eyes. "I'm...trying not to think about it."

"Well, think about it now, Mr. McGee. Do you feel _any_ desire, any _need_ to take the drugs you were hooked on before?"

Tim shook his head.

"Okay."

"But what if–?"

"Mr. McGee, would you be willing to talk with someone here at the hospital before you're released? I think it would help you."

Tim opened his eyes and looked up at Dr. Weimann.

"It would be completely confidential. What you choose to tell your friends and loved ones is completely up to you."

Tim hesitated...letting someone else know, another stranger who would know his shameful acts.

"How did this happen?" Dr. Weimann asked, touching one of the white scars on Tim's right arm.

Tim looked down at them and found the lines as mesmerizing as always. He still couldn't believe he'd actually done that to himself.

"I... There was a mistake and the dosage wasn't right. I...had a reaction to...to not having enough benzodiazepines in my blood. I was delusional...and...and I decided that the only way I could...could stop being an addict was if I got all my blood out of my body. I started cutting up my arm with a serrated kitchen knife. I have other scars on my leg, too...but not as many."

"And that still scares you?"

Tim traced the maze of scars and nodded.

"People still think of it, you know. My friends, my coworkers. The people who know...whenever something goes...whenever I do something different...there's always a moment when they wonder. ...and I...I feel the same way."

"Okay. You're expecting people to come by?"

"Yeah. Later on. They're at work right now."

"All right. I'll get someone down here as soon as I can and you can decide what you want to tell your friends when they arrive. Does that work for you?"

"Yeah," Tim said softly.

"Good. Mr. McGee?"

"Yeah?"

"You have an opportunity to let go of some weights. Don't squander it."

Tim didn't look up until he heard the door close...and even then it was only for a few seconds before he lowered his head again and sighed.

He wasn't left alone for long, however. It was only twenty minutes before there was a knock on the door and another doctor came in.

"Timothy McGee?"

Tim looked up and nodded. The doctor had a pleasant low voice, a rather scatterbrained air about him, but a look of sharp intelligence in his eyes.

"Hi. I'm Dr. Washington. Dr. Weimann wanted me to come and talk to you."

"Hi," Tim said and then looked down again.

"Hey, I know my looks are against me, but you've got to have seen uglier guys walking around than me."

Tim looked up. "That's..."

Dr. Washington grinned. "I thought that would work. Let's get this out of the way right now. I'm a shrink. You're a former addict. I'm here to help. You're embarrassed. Can we move on now?"

Tim smiled a little and nodded, although he didn't maintain eye contact for very long. It was easier to look elsewhere, but Dr. Washington didn't press the point.

"Good. Now, let's talk a bit, Mr. McGee."

"About what?"

"About getting you facing the real world again. I think it'll help you a lot more than living in fear and shame has."

"Fear and shame got me clean."

"No. They may have started you going on the road, but determination and persistence get you clean. Fear and shame hold you back because they keep you from leaning on the people who can help you. Life isn't a sprint. It's long-distance and you can't win by holding back."

"It ends the same way, regardless."

"No, it doesn't."

"How is it any different? You still die."

"Yeah. That's true, but it's _how_ you die, and how you lived before that...those are the things that matter. You think you would have been the same if you had died of a drug overdose than if you had died in the line of duty? What kind of life would you have been living up to that time? What kind of effects would your death have on others? No, death is the same for everyone, but how you die is different."

Tim was about to deny it when a memory struck him. He hadn't thought of it in ages, but there it was, at the forefront of his mind. The scene as clear as the day it had happened.

"_Well, I'm an addict, too. I'm an addict out here and I'm an addict in there. It doesn't make any difference where I stand. I've killed myself but I'm going to stay clean as long as I can."_

"_Why? What difference does it make?" Tim asked, momentarily forgetting himself._

"_To when I die? Probably not much. To how I'll feel about myself, how my family will feel? A lot. In a few months, I'll be hospitalized permanently until my heart stops. I'm lucky enough to be someone whose family and friends didn't desert him when they found out. I owe it to them at least to be in my right mind and as clean as possible when I die."_

That man...he'd be dead now, probably had been for months. Tim couldn't help wondering if he'd managed to stay off the meth until he died.

"Mr. McGee?"

"There was a guy...the first day I...I started trying...at the clinic. He was dying. He'd done so many drugs that his body had been too damaged. He told me that he was going to try to stay clean until he died."

"Why?" Dr. Washington asked.

Tim smiled a little. "Because it would make a difference to how he felt and how his family felt."

"Smart guy."

"I've been afraid of falling back into who I was before. I didn't know what I was doing to myself when I started. How can I know if I accidentally start again?"

"Because you're not a teenager anymore. Because you've gone through it all and you _know_ how it feels. You're not stupid. You're not ignorant. You have life experience and you're intelligent. Don't you talk about this at all in the group sessions you attend?"

"No."

"What do you talk about then?"

"I don't talk much."

"Then, why do you go?"

"To remind myself what I could be sacrificing if I started using again. To make sure I don't forget how hard it was the first time."

"So...you're using group therapy as an opportunity for self-flagellation?"

Tim didn't answer.

"What about the others there? How do they feel knowing that you're using their experiences to punish yourself?"

"I don't say anything about it to them!" Tim said, slightly offended. "When I have something to say, I do. It just doesn't happen very often."

"Even so, Mr. McGee, that is the wrong attitude to have about therapy. Therapy, whether one-on-one or in a group, is not about punishment. It's about recovery and healing. It's about drawing strength from each other, not about berating oneself for past mistakes."

Tim didn't say anything.

"Mr. McGee, have a little faith in yourself. You can do it...and you don't have to keep punishing yourself for your past actions. You can stop looking out through the bars you've put up in your mind and step out into the sunshine. You're not a prisoner. You have the power to choose, and you've chosen to get off the drugs and to _stay_ off them. I'm no expert in benzodiazepine withdrawal but from what I understand, there's very little chance of relapse."

Tim nodded.

"Mr. McGee, I'd like to ask you a question and I want you to _think_ about it for at least a minute before you answer. Don't say anything. Just think about it."

"Okay."

"Have you been happy since you stopped taking drugs?"

Tim opened his mouth to speak.

"Think about it first, Mr. McGee."

Tim did as instructed and thought back over the previous two years. There had been too many nights when he couldn't help but think about what had happened, what he'd done, how he'd lived his life. ...but that wasn't all that made up his life.

"Well?"

"Sometimes," Tim said finally. "I've been happy sometimes."

"Okay. When you can let go of the fear and shame, that will change from sometimes, to lots of times...maybe even to most of the time. No one is _always_ happy. Everyone has bad days. It's just a matter of dealing with them in the right spirit."

"Okay."

Dr. Washington chuckled. "Now that we've dealt with that, we can get started."

"Get started?"

"Yeah. This is just the beginning. We have to get you into the right frame of mind before we do the dirty work."

"How long will the dirty work take?" Tim asked with a small smile.

"That depends entirely on you. Let's just talk a while today and then tomorrow before you get released we can see about continuing for a while. Does that work for you?"

"Sure."

"All right. So let's get back to the problem that brought me here in the first place: your fear of medication."

Tim swallowed and then smiled again. "Okay."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

They descended upon him that evening. Tim had known they would come. His talk with Dr. Washington had lasted well over an hour, had left him feeling uncomfortable...and yet better than he had felt for a while. Not perfect, but better.

"Tim!" Abby said happily. "You're looking okay!"

She hugged him...but gently, for which Tim was very grateful.

"Thanks."

"I thought you'd be on your death bed!"

Tim smiled. "I had my appendix removed, Abby. I wasn't dying."

"You could have been," Tony said seriously.

"But I wasn't," Tim said firmly. He looked at Gibbs briefly and then away.

"How long will you be here, McGee?" Ziva asked.

"Until tomorrow. They want to make sure there's no infection that develops after the surgery. I'll be homebound for a few days, maybe a week or two and then I'll be allowed to come back to work...on a limited basis." He looked at Gibbs. "It'll be about a month before I'm back to normal, Boss. Is that okay?"

"It's fine, McGee."

He didn't say anything else, but Tim could see a warning in his eyes. He looked back at the others and smiled.

"I'm feeling a lot better."

"You sure, McGee?" Abby asked.

"Absolutely. Compared to how I was feeling before, I could almost sprint right now." He sat up and then winced. "Okay, maybe not sprint...just yet."

Abby laughed and they all settled down and talked until nearly the end of visiting hours. Ducky and Jimmy joined them when they could and it was a relatively muted party, but a party nonetheless. Tim noticed a certain amount of awkwardness...but there always was. There was always some tension whenever any one of them remembered the past. Usually, they just pushed past it without overt comment, but they all noticed it. The problem was that Tim was in a hospital bed. They couldn't help but make the comparison.

The result, of course, was a few awkward pauses, which thankfully, were brief.

"How are you getting home tomorrow?" Ziva asked.

"I'll probably take a taxi. I don't know exactly when they're releasing me."

"One of us can come and get you," she said.

"I know, but I don't know when it will be. It's easier to just plan on a taxi."

Cue awkward pause.

"Guys...you don't have anything to worry about. I'm okay. Dr. Weimann says that this wasn't caused by my drug addiction."

"I didn't think it was," Tony said...unconvincingly.

"Right."

"McGee, really!"

"Tony, it doesn't matter...and thanks."

"For what?"

"For making me come. I wouldn't have done it on my own...or if I did, it might have been too late. So thanks for checking on me...no matter _why _you did it."

The others exchanged glances which more or less cemented Tim's thought that they'd talked about it and wanted to make sure he wasn't relapsing. Too many awkward moments and they began to hem and haw, meaning it was time to go.

"I'm pretty tired still, guys. I'll see you later."

The out was gratefully (if not gracefully) accepted and they all stood to leave. Ziva leaned over the bed before she left.

"Call us, McGee," Ziva said. "If we have time we _will_ come."

Tim squeezed her hand briefly and smiled. "I know you will."

Then, they all left...well, _almost_ all of them. Gibbs and Ducky hung back. Tim had known this would happen, and he had been ready for it.

"You didn't tell them, McGee," Gibbs said.

"I know. I'm not going to."

"Why not?"

"Because that's not something they need to know."

"Isn't it? Don't you think that this might affect–?"

Tim sighed and interrupted. "There's a lot of things that can affect us. _You've_ kept plenty from us that _has_ affected us. This might affect _me_, but I don't think it will have an affect on anyone else."

"What if it holds you back from doing your job?"

"It hasn't yet. Has it?"

"Maybe. Maybe we won't know until it's too late."

Tim sighed and looked at Ducky. "He told you about it, I take it?"

Ducky's expression was grave. "Yes, and I must say that I'm concerned by what Jethro had to say."

Tim nodded. "So was Dr. Weimann."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning he had me talk to a shrink here this afternoon."

Ducky sat down beside the bed as Tim pushed the button to bring the back of his bed upright.

"And?"

"And..." Tim fiddled with the bed controls. "...and we talked."

"About what, Timothy?" Ducky asked.

"About my...being afraid still."

"Was he concerned?"

"Hard to tell...he's a shrink." Tim managed a half-smile and then looked down at the bedding. "It was...good."

"In what way?" Ducky asked, now sounding slightly amused.

"Mostly...he's just...helping me believe what I already know."

"That sounds helpful. Will you be continuing this trend?"

"Yeah. Tomorrow, before I get released, he's going to talk with me again and then set up some more sessions...while I'm recovering."

"And you think it will make a difference?"

Tim shrugged. "Probably. Can't possibly hurt, can it?"

"More than likely not," Ducky agreed.

"McGee?" Gibbs asked.

Tim looked up. "Yeah, Boss?"

"You get your head straightened out. We clear?"

"Yeah, Boss. Clear."

"Then, I won't say another word about it." Gibbs headed to the door and then turned back. "I'm glad you're all right."

"Me, too."

The door closed and Tim looked at Ducky with a weak smile.

"You've done your duty, Ducky. You can go now."

"I can do that if you'd like, but do you really wish to be alone, Timothy?"

Tim shifted uncomfortably and winced. "Not...not really...but I don't really want to talk about anything either. Everyone feels like, like they have to...to talk around the fact that they're still worried about me, about being addicted to drugs. I don't want to talk. I don't want this to...to turn into being all about the way I was...even if I worry about that, too. ...but I don't want to talk."

"You don't have to, Timothy. I'm more than willing to sit here in silence...or to speak about trivial things. Whichever you prefer."

Tim smiled.

"I like your stories, Ducky, but...right now, I'd rather just it be quiet. Do you mind?"

"Not at all. Why don't you lay back and relax?"

Tim pushed the button and the bed reclined. He settled down and closed his eyes.

"Thanks, Ducky. Gibbs could have been quiet..."

"...but his silences aren't generally comfortable?"

"No. Not at all," Tim said.

"I'm flattered that you find me capable of generating a comfortable silence."

Tim just smiled and didn't reply. Without the pressure to speak, to perform...to worry as everyone else did, Tim was able to relax. He lay in silence for a while and was surprised that Ducky didn't move to go. Finally, he said what he had wanted to say before but hadn't dared.

"I'm scared," he whispered without opening his eyes.

There was a long silence and then Tim felt Ducky take hold of his hand.

"I understand that, lad, but you have no reason to fear. We will not abandon you, and you will not be forced back into the same situation."

"I'm still scared."

"And you may lean on us any time you need reassurance."

"Thanks."

There was no response, but Ducky squeezed his hand encouragingly and didn't let go. Finally, Tim was able to slip back into sleep.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Ducky waited until he felt Tim's grip on his hand slacken...and even then, he waited until he was certain Tim was really asleep. The worry lines smoothed out of his face. When he looked at him like this, Ducky could forget that Tim had ever been an addict. Although he hid it better than the others, it was often on his mind. After the lengthy process of withdrawal, and Tim's extreme ups and downs, it would be a long time before they could all forget that Tim had been addicted to drugs.

It was sad that it was this way. Some things just lingered, and Ducky knew they lingered in Tim's own mind as well. He remembered, and apparently, he feared a relapse a lot more than they did. When would it really be forgotten? Would it ever? Perhaps not. ...but perhaps it didn't _need_ to be forgotten so much as accepted.

Tim _had_ been an addict, but he had fought his addiction and he had won. It was too bad that they could only think of the addict part, not the triumph part of Tim's past.

As he stood to go, Ducky resolved to change his own thoughts. Even if Tim never knew of Ducky's worries, it was best if they didn't exist at all, at least for all intents and purposes.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

When Tim awoke the next morning, Dr. Weimann checked him over and, while he cautioned Tim against doing anything strenuous for the next week, he did allow that Tim was ready to go home, to move around. However, he needed to take it easy for a while and let his body recover from the strain of the appendicitis and from the surgery.

Dr. Washington also scheduled further sessions with Tim, twice a week for the next month. Tim agreed readily enough, but he was uneasy at the extra instructions he was given: to participate more in his group therapy sessions. Still, he could admit that he had problems to overcome and that meant dealing with it on more than one front.

Tim's determination to fight against his phobias only strengthened as he recovered and returned to work. He wasn't sure where the determination had come from, but it became a need to prove that he was really beyond his addiction. That included his fear. He pushed it away the first time he went to the store and bought some over-the-counter pain relievers. He struggled with it, and he tried to resist the temptation to feel only revulsion for any sort of medicine.

And his struggle mostly undertaken alone and in secret. In his determination to overcome it, he also wanted to keep its existence from his friends. Gibbs knew but he didn't pry. Ducky knew but simply indicated his willingness to be a listening ear. Tim wanted this to go away and so he didn't mention it again as the days passed.

By the time Tim returned to full activity, one month after his surgery, he felt as though he was ready to take the next step in his recovery and he didn't feel the same fear at the possibility of injury as he had before. He still had some sessions scheduled with Dr. Washington, but his anxiety had lessened dramatically.

...and all without letting the others know.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

"McGee, with me," Gibbs said, hovering briefly over Tim's desk before walking toward the stairs.

Tim looked up at him in surprise. He'd been back at work for a couple of weeks now. Things were just starting to ease back into their normal state. Surely he hadn't done anything wrong already. Both Tony and Ziva looked up as Tim stood. That brief moment...would they ever stop?

Tim followed Gibbs up the stairs to one of the conference rooms.

"Have a seat."

This felt too official. Tim wondered what had happened.

"What is it, Boss?"

"Vance has approved your return to full field status."

"That's great...what's wrong?"

"How are you doing?"

That had a very specific context to it, and Tim understood instantly what Gibbs meant.

"Better."

"How much better?"

Tim felt awkward but he knew he had to answer. "Not...perfect, but I'm getting there. Dr. Washington wants to meet with me for a while longer, but he thinks I'm...regaining a proper focus on reality."

"That's what he said?"

"Yeah."

"You've been meeting with him regularly?"

Tim nodded. "Twice a week since I left the hospital last month."

"And your group sessions?"

"I'm...working on them, too."

"You haven't told anyone else about this, have you."

"No."

"You should."

"No," Tim said, earnestly. "I shouldn't."

"Why not? We've stuck with you every step of the way, Tim. Why won't you let them keep on with that?"

"Because this is different, Boss!" Tim said. "This isn't an addiction! This is just...I went too far the other way and I'm working on it. I'm not hiding from it. I'm not denying it. I just..." Tim stood up and walked to the window. He looked out at the Yard. "I don't want to give them another reason to stare. Even just now. You must have seen. Anything out of the ordinary that has to do with me...there's that moment, that split second when they just can't help thinking about it. I'm glad they...they worry and they care...I'm glad of that...I just... I want things to be normal again." He turned back to face Gibbs. "And telling them about yet another problem won't help me get any closer. Please, Boss...let me do this on my own. I'm no less determined to stay clean than I was before. I'm working on being less afraid. Don't make me tell them."

Gibbs looked at him quietly for a long moment. Tim was afraid that he'd make it an order. If Gibbs ordered him to tell them, he'd have to do it...but he didn't want to. He wanted it to stay private, something he didn't _have_ to tell everyone about.

Finally, Gibbs nodded.

"Okay. You stick with this for as long as Dr. Washington thinks it's necessary. Understood?"

"Yeah. Understood, Boss."

"Okay. Welcome back."

Gibbs stood up and walked out of the conference room. Tim lingered for a moment, took a deep breath and then followed.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Four days later..._

Marine PFC Eric Fogel woke up in the middle of the night. He didn't sleep well. He hadn't since coming to this drug rehab center, trying to get clean for what seemed like the millionth time. His addiction had led to a broken home, bankruptcy and finally the threat of getting kicked out of the Marine Corps if he didn't kick the habit. This time, he was determined to make it all the way. He knew his life wouldn't get better without getting off the drugs.

...but he was awake now and that meant he needed to do something to distract himself until sleep became possible again.

Discouraged, he got up and left his room, thinking that he could maybe go to the library and try to focus his mind on a book for a while.

...but he never made it there.

As he headed down the hallway, a sound caught his attention.

"I'm sorry, but you just aren't doing well enough."

He recognized the voice and had planned on continuing on his way, but stopped again when he heard the crying.

"Please..."

"He'hea?" he whispered.

It was her voice, but frightened...and...drugged? Had she given in? But she was doing so well! Eric forgot about the library and walked to the closed door. He opened it...and then stopped in surprise.

"Oh, Eric...what a mistake you've made."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_One week later..._

"You are here early, McGee," Ziva said as she got off the elevator.

Tim looked up and smiled. "Woke up early. Decided that it wasn't worth trying to go back to sleep. Jethro didn't seem to mind getting an early morning run."

The hesitation lasted less than a second, but it was there and they both knew it. Ziva smiled and headed for her desk.

There was no time to decide whether or not to address it because the elevator doors dinged again and Tony stepped off looking much too proud of himself.

"Goooood morning!" he said.

"What's her name, Tony?" Ziva asked.

"Her name is Luck, Ziva."

"Luck?" Ziva asked.

Tony grinned and began to sing. "Luck be a lady tonight. Luck be a lady tonight."

Ziva continued to stare at him.

"Oh, come on! _Guys and Dolls_!"

"Is that not a musical, Tony?"

"About gambling!"

"You went gambling?"

"Well, it was legal. I went to Atlantic City over the weekend. Won big time!" He deposited his bag on the floor and gave two thumbs up. "In fact..." He walked over to Tim. "Here's the 50 bucks I owe you from about three weeks of owing you money." Then, he walked over to Ziva. "And here is the 20 I owe _you_ from the times I skipped out on lunch." Then, he headed back to his desk. "And all the rest belongs to me."

"How much did you win, Tony?" Tim asked.

"Lots."

"How much? You have just given out 70 dollars. How much more?"

"Let's just say that luck _was_ a lady...and she was on _my_ side."

Gibbs strode in. "Hope she's still on your side. Got a body. Dead marine under the Pennsylvania Avenue Bridge. Been there awhile, apparently."

"Isn't that Ducky's job to determine?" Tony asked.

"Yeah, but the bugs and the smell tipped off the kid who found the body. Let's roll."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Bugs and smell..." Tony said when they were looking at the body lying in Rock Creek. "...gotcha, Boss."

It had been fairly warm. The water wasn't high. The body had fallen or been placed just on the bank. Plenty of moisture. Plenty of heat. Plenty of bugs...along with trash people had thrown out their car windows as they drove by.

"Man, how did no one see him?"

"People are in a hurry," Ziva said. "He is not in clear view, even if a person was walking by."

"Well, our little Picasso certainly wasn't just _walking by_," Tony said with a grin.

The unfinished graffiti on the overpass was a clear sign of what he'd been doing when he found the body.

"Ah, Jethro, I don't know that we've ever had such door-to-door service possible," Ducky said as he got out of his truck. "Being able to drive right up to the body, as it were, certainly makes our job simpler."

"I'm not sure all the commuters will appreciate the road being closed," Tim commented as he continued to photograph the area.

"I'm sure that's the case. We will be as swift as is possible. Mr. Palmer, if you would assist."

"Of course, Dr. Mallard."

As the two men made their evaluation, Gibbs looked around, wondering how a Marine could wind up here. ...but why _not _here? Death rarely asked for an appropriate location.

"Well, Jethro, I would venture to say that our young Marine here was _not_ killed in this place, although it is difficult to determine for certain given the water. He has certainly been here for days."

"How many?"

"I won't know for certain until I can get him back, but based on decomposition and insect life, I would say less than a week but more than 72 hours."

Tim bent over to scan for fingerprints.

"PFC Eric Fogel, member of the U.S. Marine Corps," he said and then swallowed.

"What?"

"Uh...he's also in the system for drug possession."

Everyone looked at Tim just for a moment. He cleared his throat.

"One conviction, at age eighteen."

"And he's still in the Marine Corps?" Tony asked, pushing past the moment of awkwardness.

"Enlistment is down," Gibbs said. "Waivers for past criminal activity are up."

Ducky took a breath. "Well...I'm ready to get him back to Autopsy. Mr. Palmer, if you would be so good?"

"Of...course, Doctor."

They didn't linger at the scene. After going thoroughly over all the immediate area, gathering evidence, documenting what they'd seen...and finally making jokes about how much fun Abby would have with all the trash...they headed back to NCIS.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"What is all this crap?" Abby asked, almost offended by the trash.

"It is all the litter thrown on and around our dead body, Abby," Ziva said.

"Man, people sure are pigs, aren't they?"

"Yes," Ziva said, looking at Tony, "I believe they are."

"Hey! Why are you looking at me? I'm very well-groomed...and I don't throw garbage out my car window!"

Ziva grinned and handed over all the evidence to Abby to sign off.

"This is going to be a lot of fun," Abby pouted.

"I'll bet McGee would prefer it."

"To what?"

"To looking up the history of our victim," Tony said.

"Why?"

"He was convicted for possession."

"Oh..." Abby bit her lip for a moment. "If he wants to come and help, he's welcome to."

"I'll tell him that," Tony said with a grin. "In the meantime, enjoy."

"Yeah. Thanks."

Tony and Ziva headed back to the bullpen and Abby looked at all her junk.

"Lucky me."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"What have you found, McGee?" Gibbs asked, all business.

Tim tried to follow suit, but he hesitated slightly as Tony and Ziva got off the elevator together and looked at the information on the plasma.

Tim took a deep breath and began. "PFC Eric Fogel was on what was being called medical leave from the Marine Corps. He has a drug conviction for possession at the age of eighteen in Massachusetts. He pled guilty, was given probation."

"What drug?" Ziva asked.

"Cocaine. Apparently, he was...clean for five years and then got a waiver to join the Marine Corps. His record was exemplary...until last year."

"He'd started again?"

"Looks that way, Boss," Tim said, not making eye contact. "He started being late, going UA, getting in fights."

"So how is he still in the Corps now?" Tony asked.

"Don't know. It doesn't say. The official record states that he's on medical leave, but records show that he's been a resident of the Sunrise Rehab Clinic for the last three months."

"Where is that?"

Tim brought up the map. "Just over into Virginia. Arlington."

Gibbs looked at the map and then looked at Tim who flushed and looked back at the computer screen.

"Tony...take Ziva."

"On it, Boss," Tony said with only a sidelong glance at Tim. "By the way, Probie, Abby says you can help her sort through the trash if you want."

Tim smiled weakly and waved as Tony and Ziva walked together to the elevator.

The elevator doors dinged open and closed again. Tim sat quietly for a few seconds, not looking at anyone.

"Let's go, McGee," Gibbs said.

"Where?"

"Talk to Fogel's CO and find out why they hid his drug use."

Tim stood up.

"They must have liked his work, thought he was worth keeping," he said softly.

They walked to the elevator together and Tim pushed the button.

"Don't make this about you, McGee," Gibbs said and got on.

Tim followed him.

"Everyone else already has."

The doors closed.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

"I can't help wondering," Tony said as he and Ziva pulled into the parking lot of the rehab center.

"What, Tony?"

"You think McGee would have done better in a place like this?"

Ziva looked at Tony and then at the building.

"Why would you think that? He did fine without being confined to one place."

"Yeah, but look at all the grief he went through."

"Yes, and that grief has helped make him completely determined to stay clean. I do not think this would have helped."

"I guess. Let's see what the staff here have to say."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"McGee."

Tim opened the door and got out of the car.

"I'm fine, Boss."

Gibbs just looked at him. Tim focused his attention on the group of Marines ahead of him.

"That's Fogel's unit, there, Boss."

Gibbs nodded and they walked over to a group of men who were talking intently.

"Staff Sergeant Larson?" Gibbs asked.

One man detached himself from the others.

"Yes?"

"Special Agent Gibbs and McGee."

"What does NCIS want with me?"

"We need to ask you about a man in your unit."

Staff Sergeant Larson took a deep breath and looked resigned. "PFC Fogel?"

"Why would you say that?"

"What did he do this time?"

"He was murdered," Gibbs said.

Larson's eyes widened and he walked away from the group.

"Murdered?"

"That surprises you?"

"Yes!"

"What were you expecting, then?"

"That he'd been arrested," Larson said without hesitation. "That I was going to have to carry through on my threat to kick him out of the Marines."

"Why didn't you do that before?" Gibbs asked.

"Because...the Marine Corps was the only thing he had left."

"That sounds..."

"...sappy?" Larson asked with a slight smile. "I suppose it is. You don't leave a man behind, not even a drug addict. Fogel was a good Marine...when he wasn't using. He would stick with it for a while and then slip. Usually, his work didn't fall off and so very few people knew about it. This last time was bad."

"How bad?"

"You ever seen someone so deep in the addiction that he was risking his life?"

Gibbs forced himself _not_ to look at Tim although he sensed Tim's slight stiffening.

"Yes, I have."

"Then, you know how bad Fogel was. He had problems, and I told him that he would have to get himself straightened out or lose his position in the Corps. I said that this was the last time I would cover for him."

"Did you mean it?" Tim asked suddenly.

Larson looked at Tim and then shrugged ruefully.

"I hope I did. He'd been sticking with it. I checked on him a few times over the last couple of months while he's been in rehab. He was determined. He said that he knew he had to get off the cocaine and he was going to do it this time."

"Did you believe him?"

"I believe that he was sincere. Was it a drug deal gone bad?"

"We don't know yet," Gibbs said. "Did he have any problems with people on the base?"

"Well, I'm sure some of the unit knew what was wrong with him, but no one said anything to me."

"No major conflicts?"

"None. Fogel was a good guy. No close friends, but no enemies either."

"We'd like to talk to the rest of his unit."

"Of course. Come with me."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"All right, Mr. Palmer. Here is the bullet. Take this and the blood samples to Abigail, if you would."

"Of course, Doctor."

Jimmy took the evidence and then looked at the dead man lying on the autopsy table, his insides open to the world.

"This is going to be hard for McGee," he said.

"Oh?" Ducky asked in surprise.

"Didn't you see his face? ...and didn't you see everyone else's faces? I mean...I look at this guy and I think...it could have been McGee. Don't you? Just a little?"

Ducky looked at the corpse and then back at Jimmy.

"Yes, Mr. Palmer, I do. Unfortunately, it still is fresh in all our minds, even after all this time."

"You think we'll ever be able to forget it?"

"I doubt it, but perhaps we can get a point where the memory doesn't worry us like it does now."

"I hope so."

"As do I. To Abigail, please."

"Yes, Dr. Mallard."

Jimmy left and Ducky looked back at Fogel.

"It is unfortunate, both that you chose this path for your life _and_ that Timothy's past is getting tangled up in it. Well, what more do you have to tell me?"

It turned out that PFC Eric Fogel did have something else to tell.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Do you have an appointment?" the woman at the desk asked brusquely without looking up at Tony and Ziva.

"No, but I think you'll let us in anyway."

"We require an appointment. No walk-ins."

"We're not patients. We're cops," Tony said stonily.

The woman lifted her head and stared at the badges.

"Agent DiNozzo and Agent David."

"NCIS? Why is the Navy here?"

"PFC Fogel," Ziva said.

"He's no longer in residence here."

"We know that," Tony said. "We need to speak to his therapists."

"We can't help it when our patients choose not to stay," she said. "If Eric Fogel committed a crime after he left here, that's not our fault."

"He didn't commit a crime. He died."

The woman's eyes widened even more. "Oh. Oh, dear. Let me call back and see if they can meet with you right now. Just wait for a moment. Have a seat over there."

"Of course," Ziva said with a winning smile which she then turned on Tony. He could see the tension in her jaw as they walked over to the chairs.

"Don't say anything," Tony said in a low voice. "She's probably not used to cops."

"That is no excuse. She was dismissive and then defensive. All she had to do was look _up_," Ziva hissed.

"Maybe she's had a rough week."

"She works in a place that requires patience and endurance. She should be polite at least!"

Tony looked back at the woman who was talking quietly on the phone.

"Maybe that's why she's out front and not in back with the patients."

"Perhaps." Ziva looked darkly at the woman at the desk.

"Hey, she had nothing to do with either the Probie _or_ Werth."

Ziva's expression changed to one of surprise.

"I did not say she did."

"Then, stop giving her the evil eye."

Ziva took a deep breath and settled back in the chair.

"I am glad that Gibbs did not send McGee here. He does not need to be confronted with this part of his past."

"I don't think we helped with that much, today."

Ziva grimaced. "No. I could not help but see McGee in Fogel's place."

"We don't even know why the guy was killed, Ziva."

"Do not deny that you were thinking the same thing."

Tony looked around the waiting room.

"I wish I could...but I can't."

"Agent DiNozzo? Agent David?"

They stood up to greet the two doctors who came out to see them.

"That's us," Tony said.

"I'm Dr. Bowers and this is Dr. Patterson," the man said. "Shelley said that Eric Fogel is dead?"

"Yes," Ziva answered.

Dr. Patterson shared a looked with Dr. Bowers and then she sighed.

"I knew we should have done more to find him," she said. "He had been doing so well. Kathy...Dr. Ryan, that is...she had the most interaction with him. He was on her list of patients, but she's in a group session right now. If you want to speak with her, she'll be done in about half an hour."

"We will want to talk with her as well as any of the patients Fogel was friends with."

Dr. Bowers nodded. "Of course. Come back to one of our offices. Let's not talk about this out in the open."

They led Tony and Ziva down the hall to an office. As they went inside, Dr. Bowers sighed.

"Coming on the heels of He'hea's overdose...two in one week. Times like this...you wonder if we do any good at all."

"I didn't say he died of an overdose," Tony said as they all sat down.

"What do you mean?" Dr. Patterson asked.

"It does not appear that overdose was the cause of death."

"Then, what was?"

"A bullet. He was shot."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Abby was more than happy to pay attention to the bullet and blood as opposed to the trash. She didn't really think she get any information from the garbage other than that people in DC were litterers. ...but she would analyze every bit that she had been given. It would just take a long time.

It didn't take long to set the samples running on the blood.

As she waited for the analysis of the blood sample to come through, she wondered what would be better. Would it be better if Fogel's blood was clean, meaning that his death wasn't necessarily about drugs? Or would it be better if his blood had drugs in it meaning that they could assume he'd fallen off the wagon and was using again?

...of course, it didn't matter to Fogel.

"It matters to us," Abby said, and knew that it was silly that it did...but it didn't stop her from thinking about how this case was going to make them all think of it.

She looked back at the trash and began to sort through it again.

"Tim's not an addict anymore," she said to herself. "There's no way he's going to be again. Stop worrying about it, Abby. Just worry about the case."

After an hour, she got her results back on the blood.

"Wow."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Gibbs and Tim divided the unit in half and met with each member...but they didn't discover anything more than a few members who were surprised that Fogel had been using drugs and a few who had known and had tried to convince him to get off them. None of them knew where Fogel had got his drugs.

It took some time, but finally, they finished and gathered Fogel's personal belongings from the base. There was nothing, not even drugs there...but then, he'd been gone for three months.

"Well, McGee?" Gibbs asked.

Tim looked at his notes and shook his head. "I don't think Fogel's death had anything to do with the Marines. I didn't get any sense that any of them were covering for each other. His CO didn't know of any grudges. Whoever killed Fogel...it had something to do with the drugs."

"Or something else we don't know yet."

"Yeah...but it can't be a coincidence that he was at a rehab center and apparently vanished from it...only to turn up dead. Even if he killed himself...but if he did that, where's the gun?"

"You're right."

There was a brief silence.

"Are you going to be able to handle this, McGee?"

"Handle what? The case being about the murder of a drug addict? Or the fact that everyone is going to be putting me in his place?"

"Or that _you'll_ put yourself in his place."

Tim sighed. "If I'm going to work at NCIS, I have to deal with any kind of crime that comes up. I can't pick and choose, Boss. It has to be all or nothing." He looked out the window and sighed again. "I just wish that...that I didn't have to deal with it."

"I wish you didn't, too."

Tim didn't respond.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

At the end of the day, everyone gathered to bring each other up to speed. All agreed that there was no sign of Fogel's murder being related to his service in the Marine Corps. Gibbs had taken it upon himself to try and track down Fogel's family back in Massachusetts but with no success. Tony and Ziva reported that Fogel had apparently vanished from the center the week before and that the staff had informed the police but nothing more than that because there was no sign of violence and they were dealing with another patient's overdose at the same time.

Abby reported that there was a massive amount of methadone in Fogel's blood...but no cocaine. In fact, the methadone was the only abnormal addition to the blood sample. The dosage was so high that if he hadn't been shot, he probably would have died anyway.

Ducky found some signs of a struggle, but nothing major, and his body had the telltale signs of long-term drug use, plus the damage due to the bullet, but that was all.

What they had was a mystery. No one knew who Fogel's drug suppliers had been...because he'd been off the drugs for three months. No recent transactions...nothing.

It would be two more days before they got a sudden leap forward...


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: **I named the doctor in this story before Jamie Lee Curtis' character showed up on NCIS. There's no relation between the two. ...just so you know. :)

* * *

**Chapter 7**

Gibbs' phone rang, and the other three stared at it. Gibbs was upstairs briefing Vance on the case, on the fact that they hadn't yet figured out a motive or an explanation for what had happened.

No one moved...at first. Then, Tony grinned and walked over. He answered.

"Hello, Agent Gibbs' desk. This is Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo." He paused. "Oh...hi, Henry. Sure, send her up." He put the phone back on its cradle.

"Who is it, Tony?" Ziva asked.

"Dr. Ryan from the Sunrise Rehab Center."

"We spoke to her already."

"I guess she has more to say. She's on her way up right now."

The elevator doors dinged and Dr. Kathy Ryan stepped off, looking around until she saw Ziva coming over to greet her.

"Dr. Ryan," she said, "I am surprised to see you here. You have something more to tell us?"

"Yes..." Dr. Ryan said but sounded slightly uncertain.

Tony walked over to her as well.

"We can talk in another room, Dr. Ryan. McGee, you and Ziva take Dr. Ryan to the conference room. I'll get Gibbs."

Tim blinked in surprise but said nothing. He just got up and joined the others by the elevator.

"This way, Dr. Ryan. I'm Agent McGee."

"Nice to meet you."

They walked together to the conference room and sat down.

"Now, what do you have to tell us?" Ziva asked. "You made it clear that you could give us few clues about PFC Fogel's death."

"That's because...I didn't want to talk in front of my...colleagues."

"Why?"

"Because I think there's something going on at Sunrise...and I think that Eric...that..." she sighed.

Tim and Ziva shared a look.

"How long?" Ziva asked.

"Two months...ever since he finished his detox."

"That's a violation of..." Tim began.

"I know. I know it was wrong. Both of us knew we shouldn't, but we did. Can't change that now."

"Explain," Ziva said, but rather gently.

"Eric and I...it started because I let him trust me and he wanted to trust someone. I was there. ...and I started to trust him. We just let it go too far, but it wasn't either one of us taking advantage of the other. We were in love...as trite as that sounds. But I'm only telling you this because it might help explain why I don't think Eric ran away and got killed. I saw him every day and he was doing so well. He wouldn't have left...me. Not in the night like that."

"What do you think happened?"

"I think someone at Sunrise killed him."

Another look.

"Why?" Tim asked. "It can't just be because of Fogel that you're thinking it."

"It's not...but I'll admit that Eric's death is what got me thinking about it more. I've only been at Sunrise for a year, but when I checked the statistics, there's something strange. He'hea Romrell was doing really well. It was her third time trying to get off the drugs, but she seemed to be determined this time. However, the week before she OD-ed, she started to falter. It happens, and generally, if the patient is determined to get through it, they do...and she _was_ getting through it. To find her OD-ed on Oxycontin...it just doesn't fit with her behavior before."

"How does this translate to Fogel being killed there?"

"Because, after He'hea died and Eric turned up dead, I started looking into Sunrise's history. Over the past ten years, there have been twenty deaths by overdose. Now, that's not very many when you consider the kinds of cases we take on, but all the deaths occurred at the same time of the year, always around the dates that we schedule the clinic's resupply. Twice a year. It's not on the same days, but it's close. ODs happen, especially at a rehab center that is often people's last chance, but it seems too...too regular, and there's a group of people on the staff who have been at Sunrise since it opened fifteen years ago. I'm too new to be in on the group. I don't feel excluded by any means, but..."

"Can you give us the names of this group?"

"Yes. I can." She reached into her purse and pulled out a piece of paper. "Here they are. Twelve on the staff. Three of the therapists, four nurses, one attendant, three maintenance and one administrative assistant." Dr. Ryan paused. "I don't want you to think that Sunrise is a bad place. It's incredibly successful, particularly for these last-chance cases...but there's something wrong there...something that I am convinced led to Eric's death."

Tim looked at the list and then showed it to Ziva.

"Some of these people are among those we spoke to."

Dr. Ryan nodded. "I know. That's another reason why I waited to come here to speak to you."

"Do you feel in danger?" Tim asked.

"No. I haven't dared make any suggestion of my suspicions to anyone. I don't know _who_ it would be. Everyone seems like they just want to help. ...but I just can't avoid thinking that there's something I don't see." She shrugged. "I feel like...I owe it to Eric. If I'm right, then he was killed because he saw someone...and there's something going on that needs to be...stopped."

"All right, Dr. Ryan. We will see what we can find. Are you willing to come back if we have more questions?" Ziva asked.

"Yes...but could you wait and call when I'm not at work? I don't want people to think anything is...more wrong than it already is. ...and I'd rather not have my colleagues know about Eric and me. ...unless you feel that's necessary."

"Thank you for your help," Tim said and stood up. He gestured and then led Dr. Ryan to the door. Ziva followed them to the door. While Tim took Dr. Ryan back down to the main entrance, Ziva headed to Tony and Gibbs.

By the time Tim got back, Ziva had apprised them both of what Dr. Ryan had said.

"So?" Tim asked.

"What?"

"What are we going to do about it? There's no evidence beyond Dr. Ryan's statistics."

Gibbs looked at Tim for a long moment and then at Tony and Ziva.

"McGee...look into the records of all the people on the list. Tony, Ziva, check on the victims."

Tim started chewing the inside of his cheek but he didn't say anything. Instead, he walked back to his computer and sat down with the list and began doing what he was told.

Tony opened his mouth to say something but then stopped himself. Instead, he and Ziva sat down to look up the addresses of all the victims' families.

They worked in silence.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Two days later..._

"Okay...talk to me," Gibbs said.

Tim shook his head. "There's nothing in these people's histories to indicate criminal activity. Two of them on the list were drug addicts years ago, over twenty years ago. Dr. Lorraine Patterson and Joseph Carmen, on maintenance."

"No slips?"

"None in the official records. If Dr. Ryan is right, whoever this person is, he or she has never been caught. There's no sign."

Gibbs looked at Tony and Ziva.

"We couldn't get in touch with all of them, Boss," Tony said.

Ziva nodded. "But of those we did speak to, there were five who would have sworn that there was more to the death of their family member than a simple overdose. It is much like what Dr. Ryan said, that they were determined to get clean and they would not have taken drugs again."

"No investigations?"

"Police looked into it," Tony said. "Didn't find anything."

"There is no evidence of who killed him, Gibbs," Ziva said. "All we have is Dr. Ryan's insistence that there is more to the story."

"Boss...maybe we should..."

"What, Tony?"

"Go undercover...at the rehab center. We're not going to get authorization to fully investigate these people based on Dr. Ryan's gut, Boss."

"We would have to go as a patient," Ziva pointed out.

There was a pause.

"When do I leave?" Tim asked.

"What?"

"When do I leave?" he repeated. "If any of us goes undercover, it can't be either of you. They've seen you there. Besides...who better to be a drug addict than someone who...was one?"

"McGee..."

"I'm serious! It makes sense."

"And how would you explain it?" Gibbs asked in a noncommittal voice.

"I'm addicted to benzodiazepines." Tim took off his jacket, baring his heavily-scarred right arm. "A year ago, I tried to get off them and had a bad reaction. It was traumatizing enough to me that I gave up. Now, I want to try again...but I don't have the willpower to do it on my own. So they're approving a temporary admission for a few weeks to get me stepping down...in order to overcome my fear." He looked at Tony and Ziva, both of whom looked uncomfortable. "It's close enough to the truth. I won't have to pretend. I remember how it felt...all of that. I remember it."

Tony started to speak, but Tim interrupted him.

"If I have to have this as a part of my life, I should be able to get something good out of it. This could be something good. We have a chance to figure out who killed a Marine! The methadone in his system speaks to something out of the ordinary. It wasn't his drug of choice. He'd never used methadone. Why now? How did he get it? It doesn't make sense. Who shot him? If there is something going on at that rehab center, we have a chance to stop it."

"What about getting in there? What about the drugs you would be issued?" Ziva asked.

"Dr. Ryan," Tim said. "We can use Dr. Ryan. She can be the recommending physician. She can be my designated doctor in there and we can use dummy pills or we could just have the supposed administration occur behind closed doors."

"I don't think this is a good idea, Probie."

"Why not?"

"Because...you don't usually...send a..."

"Say it, Tony. It's not taboo. I was a drug addict. I've said it enough. You've thought it enough. Maybe you should say it _more_ and stop staring at me every time there's just a hint of something going on! Maybe you should try trusting me a little more! I'm not going to become an addict again! It's not going to happen! ...because _I_ don't want it to happen, and I have the choice! We use things we know to go undercover! You've done it. Ziva's done it. It's my turn!"

"That's enough," Gibbs said. "McGee, with me. You two...start figuring out the logistics."

Tim followed Gibbs to the elevator...knowing what was coming.

He was right. As soon as the doors closed and the elevator started to lift, Gibbs flicked the switch.

"What are you thinking, McGee? You think this is some kind of test? Some way of proving that you're okay?"

"I'm not an addict anymore, Boss," Tim said. "I'm not...but if that's all they can think of, then I have to use what there is...and my addiction is something I can use here. I told you before...I'd rather die than become an addict again. I wasn't being melodramatic. I wasn't kidding. I meant it. I would rather _die_ than face that again. You have nothing to worry about on that score if you send me to a place full of recovering addicts. I'm not going to be tempted to fall. I told you that in the hospital, and it's still just as true now. I may still worry about any kind of medication, but I accept that it's necessary. ...but there's no temptation."

Gibbs kept staring at him.

"Boss...I can do this. I...I _need_ to do this...if only to prove to everyone else once and for all...that I'm not that person anymore!"

"You have nothing to prove, Tim."

"Yes, I do. Let me do this."

Another silence.

"Please, Boss."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

"You want to _what_?" Vance asked in disbelief.

"Send McGee undercover at the Sunrise Rehab Center."

"As a patient?"

"Yes."

"Given his history, _why_ would you want to do that?"

"Because Tony and Ziva did the initial interviews over there. People will know who they are. ...and McGee can be a convincing addict...who wants to get clean."

"Is it really a good idea to put him in that situation, Gibbs?"

"It's the most logical course of action."

Vance shook his head impatiently. "I'm not talking about logic. In your opinion, does this put Agent McGee at risk for a relapse?"

Gibbs thought back to his conversations with Tim, his determination...his obsession.

"No, Director. I don't think Agent McGee is a risk for readdiction. He hates what he did in the past and does not suffer any temptation to go back to how he was."

"Do you think this is a good idea?"

"I'm willing to send him undercover, Director."

Vance looked at him shrewdly. "So...you're not sure either, are you."

"I don't think he'll be tempted to use drugs again," Gibbs said.

"Right."

"I have your permission?"

"Yes. Are you willing to do this?"

"Yes."

"Okay. Go ahead."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Gibbs walked out of the office and was unsurprised to see Tim standing there, waiting. He didn't say anything. His eyes widened slightly in a silent question. Gibbs didn't answer at first; instead, he led Tim back to the elevator.

"Boss?"

Gibbs nodded. "Okay, McGee."

"Thanks, Boss."

"You have _any_ problems in there, you pull the plug. Understand?"

"Yes."

"I mean it, McGee. No matter what. You stop if it gets too difficult."

Tim looked down. "I'm not that weak-willed, Boss."

"It has nothing to do with that. It has _everything_ to do with you not sacrificing yourself because you think you have something to prove. I want you to promise me that you'll let us know if it gets too hard for you."

"I promise."

"Okay."

The elevator doors opened.

"Okay, let's get started," Gibbs said.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_One week later..._

Dr. Ryan took a deep breath and walked into the meeting.

"I'm sorry I'm late. I had a last-minute call."

Dr. Bowers smiled. "That's all right. It happens. We've only just started."

Dr. Ryan sat down, smiling at the others.

"I actually have a request."

Dr. Patterson cocked her head to the side. "What is it, Kathy?"

"I have...a friend...of a friend whom I'd like to admit for a few weeks."

"What's the problem?"

"He's addicted to benzodiazepines, has been for a long time, apparently. He tried to quit about a year ago and had a really bad reaction. He became delusional and cut up his own arm pretty badly. It scared him so much that he's never been able to start the withdrawal again. He recently expressed an interest in breaking his addiction, but he's afraid. His therapist determined that it would be best for him to get away from his life for a while and take the first few steps in a structured environment when the choice isn't his. He can see that the withdrawal isn't as frightening as he thinks it is and can then be released and continue without the same fear. I'll take responsibility for giving his daily dose so that there's no risk of the other patients seeing."

"Who is he?"

"His name is Tim McEnroe. He does things with computers. He tried to explain it to me last night, but I didn't understand him," Dr. Ryan said with a smile. It was true. Tim _had_ tried to explain the background he'd given himself and her eyes had glazed over after about thirty seconds. "He's very good at it according to my friend."

Dr. Patterson looked around the room. "I have no objections."

Dr. James leaned forward. "How long would he be staying?"

"No more than four weeks. Just long enough for him to step down twice. He's about ready to step down for the first time, but there's likely to be a lot of anxiety with it."

"When would he arrive?" Dr. Bowers asked.

"Today, if you agree. I met him for the first time last night. My friend brought him to DC with her."

"I don't have a problem with it. We have...the space right now," Dr. James said.

Dr. Ryan nodded solemnly. "All right. I'll call him and let him know...after the meeting."

"Okay. So...next on the agenda," Dr. Bowers said, obviously shaking off the solemn mood that had arisen at the mention of the two recent deaths.

Dr. Ryan stifled a sigh of relief. It had worked as well as they'd planned. No suspicions, no problems. Of course, this was all banking on the idea that there was something going on here. She was so sure of it, but as she looked around the room at her colleagues, she wondered if she were being unjust to them by thinking any of them could be a killer.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Are you really ready for this, McGee?" Tony asked.

Tim looked at the phone, waiting for Dr. Ryan's call which was tell him that it was time to start.

"Yeah...of course. It's hardly going to be acting at all, right?"

There was an awkward pause. Tony looked at Ziva and then back at Tim.

"McGee..."

Tim didn't look away from the phone. "Yeah?"

"I'm sorry."

"What for?"

"For...For staring."

"For worrying about you," Ziva added. "And for not saying anything to you about it."

Tim shrugged. "Doesn't matter."

"Yes, it does," Tony said. "If it bugs you so much, then it matters!"

The phone rang and Tim jumped, simultaneously reaching out to answer it.

"Hello?"

"_Tim, it's Dr. Ryan."_

"Hi, Dr. Ryan...so...am I in?"

"_Yes. You can come any time today, but I recommend earlier rather than later. It will be easier to get you settled."_

"Of course. There weren't any issues?"

"_None."_

"Thanks, Dr. Ryan."

"_My pleasure. I'll expect you this afternoon."_

"All right. Good-bye."

Tim hung up and looked at Tony and Ziva for the first time. They looked worried still.

"It's on. I'd better get going." He got up and grabbed his bag that had been packed for days in anticipation of just this call.

"Wait, McGee," Tony said, standing as well.

"What?"

"Don't go right away. You're supposed to be afraid of this."

"Afraid but wanting it at the same time," Tim clarified. "That changes things."

"So what will you do?" Ziva asked

"I'm going to show up there...and then not go inside." Tim smiled and then sighed a little. "You guys...I know you don't like what I'm doing. I know you don't like remembering the past. I don't either. ...but this is my life. It's how it has to be. While I'm in there...could you maybe think about..._not_ thinking the worst of me?"

"We do not think the worst of you," Ziva said.

Tim raised his eyebrows in disbelief.

"We do worry, but we do not think the worst of _you_."

"Thanks. I've got to get going."

"Just be careful, Probie," Tony said.

"I'm not going to become an addict again. Okay?" Tim said and then walked out the door. Once out on the sidewalk, he hailed a cab.

On the ride over to Sunrise Rehab, he fidgeted. It was only partially an act. He was nervous. Tim could admit that to himself...even if he didn't want to admit to anyone else. ...but he wasn't nervous about becoming an addict again, not at a place dedicated to getting people _off_ drugs. No, he was a lot more afraid of screwing up.

"Hey, sir. We're here."

Tim jumped and looked out the window.

"Uh...thanks." He paid the driver and then got out of the cab.

After the taxi pulled away, he stood on the sidewalk, staring at the front entrance, not moving for a while. He figured a few people might see him, but if not, he'd head inside in a few minutes. He thought of the meth addict he'd met so briefly and how he said that it didn't matter where he stood, he was still an addict.

_Only I'm not anymore. I'm only pretending now...but I have to remember how that felt._

Finally, Tim squared his shoulders and walked inside. Hesitantly, he walked to the front desk and cleared his throat.

"Do you have an appointment?" the woman asked without raising her head.

"Yes. I'm...checking in, I guess," Tim said.

The woman looked at him, looked him up and down.

"Name?"

"Tim...McEnroe."

She looked down again.

"Yes, you're expected. I'll call for Dr. Ryan. Have a seat."

Tim nodded mutely and sat down. It was only a few minutes before Dr. Ryan came out, but it felt like hours. ...it felt like that first day.

"Tim?"

Tim jumped to his feet.

"Hi...Dr. Ryan...I'm here."

Dr. Ryan smiled, but she looked a bit nervous as well.

"I see that. Good. Come on back. Now, your bag will have to be searched and all your medication is going to be put in my charge while you're here. Understand?"

Tim nodded. She'd warned him of this before...which was why he couldn't have a wire. They did regular searches of the premises.

Tim followed Dr. Ryan back, allowed one of the attendants to search his bag, gave his "medication" (sugar pills which looked like diazepam pills) to Dr. Ryan and then went into his room. He sat down on the bed and looked around. He was alone and, for the first time in a while, _really_ coming face-to-face with the person he'd been before.

There was a knock on the door.

"Come in?"

Dr. Ryan came in and smiled as she closed the door behind her.

"You weren't really acting, were you?"

Tim shook his head. Without speaking, he pulled off his jacket, baring his scarred right arm.

"Temazepam?"

He nodded.

"For how long?"

"Since I was seventeen."

"You've been off it?"

"Two years."

"Good for you."

"Thanks."

"You'll have to participate fully in all the aspects of the Center, but you'll also have time to yourself. Visiting hours are daily, generally between noon and seven p.m., although we have extended them on occasion if necessary. Everyone in this section of Sunrise is trying to adjust to not taking drugs. We have the initial detox area, but that's separate. It's for the more desperate cases."

Tim nodded and looked around again, taking a deep breath as he did so.

"Scared?"

He smiled. "A little. This is something I wanted to leave behind me...but it never really was. Maybe this will help."

Dr. Ryan laughed a little. "Therapy always helps if you let it."

"How much freedom will I have to walk around?"

"Quite a bit...as long as you don't abuse it. Tomorrow, you'll be taken on a general tour and you'll be told which group sessions you'll be attending. I won't be running yours, but all the individual sessions will be with me...as your supervising therapist."

"Okay."

"Dinner will be in about an hour."

"Thanks."

"There's no lock on the door, by the way...at least not on the inside."

"Right."

Dr. Ryan left Tim alone with his thoughts.

"What have I got myself into?" he whispered.

Pretending to be nervous and anxious was going to be easy.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Tim's nerves, although not wonderful feelings, did help him present a genuine face to the staff as he came in contact with them during his first full day. He kept to himself mostly, knowing that would be his natural inclination, and for now, feeling that it was best to keep to that. How he made it through that first day, he didn't know for sure. His stomach was tied in knots the entire time. He was certain that someone, one of the other patients perhaps, would see right through him and would know that he was undercover. He'd never really gone undercover like this before and he was afraid of screwing up.

They had decided that it would be best to give Tim a few days before setting up the notion of a visitor. That meant that Tim was alone in the center, and it was rather frightening, but Tim hoped that would lend an air of credibility to his persona...not that it was much of one.

He waited nearly a full week before making his first tentative forays into really interacting with the other patients. His group sessions were run by Dr. Bowers. He was a large man, but very soft spoken. It was clear that the other patients in the group liked him. He'd allowed Tim to keep to himself for the first few days, but Tim could tell that wouldn't last forever. Much as Dr. Young, Dr. Bowers was very clear about what he thought would help and he took his position very seriously.

"Tim?"

Tim jumped and looked around. He'd allowed himself to zone out again as he made his observations.

"Yes?"

Dr. Bowers smiled. "I asked if you would mind giving your thoughts."

"On what? I...I...I'm sorry. I wasn't...I..." Tim dropped his head and stared at his lap, his embarrassment only slightly exaggerated.

Dr. Bowers smiled. "It's all right, Tim. We do need your attention, but I can repeat myself."

Tim flushed...a reaction that was totally genuine.

"I'm sorry."

"Kate? Why don't you repeat your question for Mr. McEnroe?"

An older woman who had clearly seen much better days nodded. The name wasn't lost on Tim at all. Just by virtue of the fact that her name was Kate, Tim felt he had to give her his complete attention.

"I just asked if anyone ever felt like there was just too much...too much to fight to beat this addiction. My boyfriend got me hooked years ago. I've tried and tried, but it's scary sometimes...seeing how far there is to go. It feels like there's no end."

"Thanks, Kate. Tim?"

Tim looked around the circle at the other patients. They were waiting for what he was going to say...out of genuine interest? Maybe some of them, but he could at least see that they were going to give him the respect of having a voice. He swallowed.

"I...well, it was my roommate back in college. He...I get really stressed about...things and when I was in college...it was tests. It would keep me up at night, being so scared. I...I tried to get off the benzos myself." He held up his scarred arm. "I didn't do it right. I tried to stop them all at once, and I did this to myself in my delusion. It was only luck that I survived. It does scare me...the idea of that happening again, of having to face it all again...that's why I'm here. I can't get beyond that...not on my own...because it's too much for me to fight against. So...no, you're not the only one." Tim dropped his eyes again.

There was a moment of silence and then Dr. Bowers got back into the discussion.

"Thank you for sharing, Tim. It's always hard to open ourselves up and share what we might consider to be our darkest parts, but here, you're always safe to share. No matter what it is, there's no judgment because everyone is in the same boat."

Tim nodded, but he kept his eyes lowered. He wasn't forced to make eye contact and he said nothing until the session was over. As the patients started to leave, Kate came over and sat beside him.

"Thank you for talking, Tim. I could tell you weren't comfortable doing it."

Tim looked at her. She looked nothing like Kate. She had a faded look to her. Years of heavy drug use had clearly taken their toll...but it was the name that had drawn him. He knew it was likely a need to find some sort of familiarity in a space that was so tense for him...but that didn't matter.

"That's why I'm here, right?" he said with a slight smile.

"You're here for a different reason," Kate said, shaking her head. "You're so much more admirable than I am. I'm here because it was this or jail. I'd given up on ever getting clean and decided it was better just to feel good sometimes until I died. I knew I'd probably OD, but I didn't care anymore. You're actually _wanting_ to get clean and you're doing it without being forced to."

"Oh, I'm not that great. I promise," Tim said. "I chose to come, but it was because I was found out. I got hooked on drugs just like you."

He could see Kate was unconvinced, but she smiled and patted him on the arm before she left the room.

"Welcome to Sunrise, Tim," Dr. Bowers said.

Tim jumped again. He hadn't realized that Dr. Bowers had stayed behind.

"Thanks," he said. "I'm really sorry that I wasn't...really...paying attention."

"Distracted?"

"Yeah. I'm sorry."

"It's all right, Tim. Dr. Ryan told us about your struggles. It's good that you're taking the steps necessary to beat your addiction. Not everyone can. Some people do try and fail. Others give up."

Tim smiled. "I thought you were supposed to tell me that everyone can do it."

Dr. Bowers returned the smile. "We're realists here, Tim. It's about realistically fighting...and sometimes, realistically failing. You have a very good chance of it if you stick it out."

"Don't you ever get tired of it?"

"Of what?"

"Seeing people fail."

"It's sad sometimes to see someone you know can make it give up...but you can't win them all." Dr. Bowers straightened. "I think you're going to be a good addition to our group, Tim. It's nearly lunchtime. So you have some time to yourself."

"Thank you." Tim walked out of the room and headed for the library. He scanned the shelves and found an old Agatha Christie novel. It was good enough for him and he settled down in one of the chairs and started to read.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Gibbs pulled up to Sunrise Rehab and took a breath before getting out of the car. No matter how much confidence he'd expressed to others, part of him was worried about what he might see. Would Tim be handling it okay? Would he have found anything? Would he be afraid that he'd screw up?

Tim's role was seeming more and more important as time went on because, quite frankly, they weren't seeing much evidence of wrongdoing by anyone employed by the center. If any of the staff were hiding some deep dark secrets, it certainly wasn't obvious. They were well-hidden at the moment. In spite of Dr. Ryan's assertion that PFC Fogel had found something that got him killed, there was no evidence to support it.

So what did that leave them? Tim being undercover, posing as a drug addict, in a place full of drug addicts...full, in fact, of last-chance cases.

The one thing that kept Gibbs from worrying more was Tim's deep-rooted desire to avoid even a _hint_ of re-addiction. He truly _would_ rather die than start using again. It was cold comfort, but it was all he had at the moment.

Up the steps into the main entrance. He walked to the front desk.

"Welcome to Sunrise Rehab. How can I help you?"

"I'm Leroy McEnroe. My son is a...patient here."

"You're here to visit?"

"Yes."

"All right. Fill out this form and I'll call back."

"Thank you."

Gibbs filled out his information and then waited, letting his nerves show...acting in the role of a parent who is worried about his son.

"Mr. McEnroe?"

"Yes?"

"Tim is ready to see you."

Gibbs got quickly to his feet.

"Where do I go?"

"Down the hall and then to your left."

"Thank you."

Gibbs strode on his way and then halted at the doorway. It opened onto a wide interior courtyard. There were a few people there, clearly visiting patients. He scanned those present until his eyes fell on Tim, sitting alone in one corner. He walked over.

"Hey...Tim," he said, deliberately awkward.

"Hey...Dad," Tim said, showing the same awkwardness, although his smile was more a realization of the strangeness of referring to his boss as his father.

"How's it going?"

"Okay...they're...nice here. I'm going to group sessions every day. I...I did step down once."

"Congratulations."

"Thanks."

"They watch you all the time?"

"Not out here. This is the area where they let us gain some trust." His mouth quirked in a smile. "Of course...we get searched when we're done. But there _is_ some trust. Dr. Bowers said that we can't get used to living in the real world again if we don't learn to trust ourselves and prove that we _are_ trustworthy." Tim looked around.

"How are you liking it?"

Another awkward smile. "I don't...but I think...maybe it's helping me. These people here...they're like me...Dad. They _know_ what it feels like to be an addict. It's different."

That was an honest statement right there. Gibbs could see it. Tim really did appreciate the fact that he didn't feel like he was worse than those around him...because everyone here was an addict.

"Any thoughts on what's coming next?"

Tim shrugged.

"Can't be any worse than I was before, can it? Dr. Ryan is being really careful with the drugs I'm still taking and we're doing everything on the schedule. I just...I'm..." Tim sighed, a bit theatrically to tell the truth, but the movement attracted Gibbs' eye to a piece of paper in Tim's pocket, the top edge sticking out.

Gibbs nodded his understanding and then sat right beside Tim...and gave him one of the most awkward one-armed hugs in the history of the world. Tim returned it just as awkwardly, but the gesture covered up Gibbs picking Tim's pocket.

They talked for a few more minutes and then Gibbs stood to leave. Tim stood as well, his eyes not really focusing on Gibbs himself.

"Tim?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm proud of you."

Tim's eyes moved onto Gibbs' face, as if he were trying to determine whether this was part of the act or if it were genuine.

"Really," Gibbs said. "I'm proud of what you're trying to do here."

Tim swallowed. "Thanks, Dad. How long are you going to be staying here?"

"A couple of weeks. I'll try to come as much as I can."

"Okay. I'll see you later, then?"

"Yeah. Bye."

Another awkward hug and Gibbs left the courtyard. He signed out and left the building as quickly as he could without looking like he was eager to see something else.

When he got back into his car, he pulled out Tim's note.

_Dr. Bowers: Something personal about his work, but not sure what. Well-liked by the patients. I appreciate what he does here. Large build keeps people in line, but personality is more mild than I expected._

_Dr. Patterson: Not much interaction with her. Different schedule. Former addict, as we knew and she uses that to establish rapport. No hiding her past._

_Dr. Ryan: Doing well with being my contact so far. I think she's nervous about everything. I don't know that she'll keep quiet if pressed._

_Dr. James: More impersonal. Harder cases go to him because he's able to physically restrain if necessary._

_Joe Carmen: Like Patterson, establishes trust, even as he does searches, because he has a history of drug use. Knows all the tricks for hiding things. Runs a tight ship here and most of the patients respect him._

_Movements quite regimented throughout the day and moreso at night. I got too close to the infirmary without cause and was instantly found and moved back to public areas. I was lost and I haven't tried to go back since then. Murder could not be done by patient unless due to inattention by doctor or complicity._

_Things going well so far, but I hope you find something._

Gibbs looked back at the building. He hoped they found something, too.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

_Three days later..._

"Nothing yet?" Gibbs asked.

Tony shook his head. "No. Not a thing, Boss. ...but there's got to be something."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because...we all feel it," Ziva said. "Something is wrong about that place. Someone went through the trouble of killing, moving and hiding PFC Fogel's body. The drugs in his system match the depleted supply at the Sunrise Rehab Center...although it is the right time for the resupply; many of their drugs would have been at lower levels."

"...and even if we haven't found anything concrete, it's hard to discount what Dr. Ryan had to say. She knows the place even if she _is_ a newcomer. If she wasn't serious, she wouldn't have risked revealing their relationship."

"Perhaps we are not focused on the right people. Is it possible for McGee to get more information on the people in the Center?"

"Probably. He's sure that it couldn't have been a patient."

"I don't think it was a patient either," Tony said. "It just doesn't work. ...but what if we went through these patients again? Not looking at their deaths...but at what kinds of situations they were in when they went to Sunrise."

"What do you mean?" Ziva asked.

"I mean...what Dr. Ryan told us about that other lady who died of an overdose. That was, what, her third time trying to get clean? She'd had a hard time in the week before she died. PFC Fogel was on his last chance."

"Everyone at Sunrise is supposed to be on their last chance," Gibbs pointed out.

"Yeah, but not all of them have been to rehab before, have they?"

"That is true," Ziva said. "For some of the patients there, it is simply that they had to choose between rehabilitation and prison. A last chance of a different kind."

"All right. I'll see what McGee can tell me. You start looking into the other patients who died." Gibbs paused and considered. "...and bring Ducky into it. See what he can see. If all these patients were killed by the same person, then we have a serial killer on our hands."

The implications of that suddenly hit home.

Tim was trying to find a serial killer.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim was fretting a little bit. He only had about two weeks until he would leave Sunrise. There was no delaying because of the story they'd created about why he was there in the first place. He _had_ to find something before that time. He was in the library, which was his preferred place. Not a lot of the patients wanted to hang out there on nice days. Because of what he was doing, Tim simply craved solitude whenever he could get it.

...but right now, he just didn't know what else to do. He'd made some notes on other people at Sunrise, but because of his role as a patient, it wasn't as though he could really wander around and start asking the staff questions. He'd made tentative friends with the librarian, but she was a relatively new hire, having worked there for the last five years only.

Maybe there _wasn't_ anything to find, but he had a hard time believing that. Something wasn't right here, but he couldn't figure out what it was. There was something that put him on edge, even more than the fact that he was undercover. At this point, he couldn't even figure out what it was that was bugging him. He was trying to work through every moment that he'd been here to decide when he was most bothered.

"Tim?"

Tim jumped, more startled than he should have been. He looked up and saw Kate standing in front of him. He needed to learn to pay more attention to his surroundings. If things went sour, that could be a fatal mistake.

"Sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to scare you. You looked pretty lost in thought."

"Just woolgathering," Tim said with a smile.

"Do you mind the interruption?"

Tim did want to think more, but he still felt that small connection to her. He smiled and shook his head.

"Nope. I'm just thinking. ...actually, would you mind my asking you some questions?"

"About what?" Kate asked in surprise.

"Well...I...I'd heard about...the reason there was space for me to come here, that a couple of patients died...and I was just wondering about what happened."

"He'hea and Eric."

"They're the ones who died?"

"Yeah. It was a real shock to everyone here. He'hea, especially. She was the strong one of the current group. She'd hit a...a low point, but...she was getting out of it."

"Was she in your group?"

Kate nodded. "Yeah. You took her spot."

"Oh." Tim looked around for a moment. "What about the other guy?"

"Oh...well...Eric was...kind of different from the others here. He was in Dr. Patterson's group, but he met with Dr. Ryan a _lot_. He said once that this was his last chance to get his life on track. If he didn't make it here, his whole life was ruined. I think he was really determined. We don't even know exactly what happened to him. He left in the middle of the night and...and then, we were finding out that he was dead. I don't even know who found out first. It wasn't announced by the doctors. The patients here started whispering about it."

"Huh."

"Who told you?"

"Oh, when I was coming here. Dr. Ryan is...kind of a friend of the family...and she told me that the reason I could come...was because they'd had a couple of patients die rather suddenly." Tim hoped that would suffice as an explanation...and that Kate wouldn't talk about it to other patients.

"Oh." Kate sighed. "It's hard to see people like He'hea suddenly...lose the fight when they're so strong. Makes you wonder what chance you have. If she can't make it, why would I think that I can?"

Tim shook his head.

"No. You can't think like that, Kate," he said, earnestly. "You can't compare yourself to anyone else. It doesn't work like that. That was part of my problem...part of why I got hooked on drugs in the first place."

"What do you mean? You've never really said what got you started. You don't seem to like talking about yourself in group."

Tim shrugged awkwardly. "I don't like being the focus of attention...not even _good _attention. I'd rather...blend into the woodwork...be forgotten."

"But why? You're such a great example, Tim," Kate said. "You're fighting back and you're winning!"

"I'm not that great. Really. I had to be as good or better than my roommate...as good or better than everyone with me at school. If I wasn't, I was a failure. I spent years comparing myself...and that only made things worse for me. I know from personal experience that comparing doesn't help. ...and I'm just as prone to it as the next person...if not moreso...I'm really not that great."

Kate shook her head. "No. I see it differently. I don't know you or your past, but what I see here is someone fighting for more...fighting and winning...and doing it willingly."

"I wish I could see myself that way," Tim said, forgetting, for the moment, that he was supposed to be pretending, that he _was_ pretending to be in a situation he was no longer in. He forgot that he was sitting in a rehabilitation clinic with a woman who had spent most of her life on the verge of killing herself with drugs.

They were just two people bonding over their personal struggles.

"I guess that's part of what makes us who we are. We can't see anything good about ourselves. My boyfriend told me that we couldn't really be happy together unless I was willing to share in what he did. I wanted to be with _someone_. No one ever wanted to be with me before...so I listened to him...and look where it got me." She gestured at herself. Whatever good looks she might have had were long gone, lost to the ravages of her former lifestyle. "Even if I make it to the point that I don't want the drugs all the time...what do I have? My boyfriend is long gone...probably dead or in prison. My family disowned me a long time ago. I don't even know if my parents are still alive. I never even went to college, barely finished high school. Any friends I had gave me up either when I started using drugs or when I decided to stop." She shook her head. "Makes me wonder why I bother."

Tim leaned forward and took Kate's hand.

"No. Don't think like that. Please, don't. I don't know if I would have ever stopped...or _tried_ to stop if I hadn't been caught first. In the beginning, I didn't think I had any value except when I was using drugs...but it's not true. Maybe you'll have to find a new...a new life, but you can't give up without trying!"

Kate was looking at him with surprise.

"Why do you care, Tim? Why do you care about someone like me?"

Tim wasn't sure what to say. Because of his stated occupation, he could hardly say that Kate had been killed by a terrorist sniper...but he had to say something. Kate looked two steps away from from declaring him a psycho.

"Because...I had friend who...she died...really, _really_ suddenly. It was like she was ripped away from us all so fast that...that we didn't even have time to register it. Her name was Kate. She was a really close friend...and maybe it's just silly of me, but...but I just don't want to see you lose it all...when you have a choice. Kate didn't get to choose."

"Tim?"

Tim looked beyond Kate and saw Dr. Bowers walking into the library.

"Yeah?"

"Your father is here to visit you."

"Oh. Thanks. I'll be right there." He looked back at Kate.

"I don't feel like I have a choice, Tim," Kate said softly.

"You do. You _always_ have a choice. I have to go...but you can always talk to me...if you want to."

Kate smiled wistfully and didn't reply. She just got up and left the library. Tim slumped down in the chair for a moment.

"Trying to take my job, Tim?"

Tim looked up at Dr. Bowers who was still waiting for him.

"No. I don't want your job. I just don't want to see anyone die."

"Admirable, but be careful. Don't forget that _you're_ here to recover, not to save the others around you. If you can help them, that's good, but getting off drugs requires an internal desire, not an external one."

Tim nodded and got up.

"Oh, I have a card for my family. Dad said he'd pass it on. It's in my room."

Dr. Bowers smiled. "You're not in elementary school, Tim. You don't have to ask permission to go to your room."

Tim flushed and nodded again. He hurried past Dr. Bowers and to his room. When he got the card, he hurriedly opened it and scribbled an extra message inside it and then went to the visiting room.

Gibbs was sitting there waiting for him.

"Hi, Dad. Sorry...there was a..." He hesitated. "...I have the card for the family. I wasn't sure what to say really."

Gibbs smiled and inclined his head in acknowledgment.

"How are they treating you?"

"Fine."

"_All_ of them?"

Tim furrowed his brow for just a moment...and then, he got it. They wanted more information on the other people who work here.

"Yeah. The librarian has been here for about five years. She's a registered nurse, but she also is willing to get any book I ask for. I haven't really seen everyone who works here, though."

"Sure. Of course. ...how are you feeling?"

"Lucky."

"How?"

"Some of the people here..." Tim looked down. This wasn't an act. This was just reality...cold, stark reality. No one here at Sunrise could really understand how he felt at hearing Kate's feelings. "...they've lost everything. I was talking with one of the patients and she...feels like she has nothing to look forward to even if she beats it. ...I have a lot. I still have my job. You guys didn't reject me when you found out. My friends are sticking with me. I have a lot to be grateful for."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow in surprise. Clearly, he could tell that Tim meant what he was saying...and Tim felt compelled to add one more detail, knowing Gibbs would understand.

"Her name is Kate."

A knowing look.

"Remember that you can't save everyone, son."

"I know. I can barely save myself, but I don't want to see her lose her fight."

"Just do what you can. That's all we can do for _you_."

"Yeah, I know...but I really appreciate what you've done for me." Tim didn't know why he was saying all this now, but he really meant it. He didn't know if he'd ever said it to everyone, but he should have.

"I'll make sure everyone gets to read your card, Tim," Gibbs said, patting his shoulder. "They're all getting excited for you to come home. You going to be ready?"

Tim looked around. "Yeah...I think so. I hope so."

"You will. Even if there's still more work to be done."

Tim got _that_ message loud and clear. Gibbs stood up and Tim followed suit.

"Thanks for coming, Dad. It's nice to know that there are people out there waiting for me."

Gibbs smiled and hugged him briefly, and then he walked out of the room.

Tim took a breath, squared his shoulders and went back to his room to wait until dinner.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Gibbs drove only a couple of blocks before he stopped the car to open the card and read Tim's message.

_I haven't really found anything new, but I'm getting more and more sure that there's something going on here. I can't pinpoint what feels wrong, but there's something off. I wish I could be sure that there really is something and I'm not just getting paranoid. One thing's certain, though: I can't get any real details alone. They run a really tight ship here. Any patient out of bed at night without a member of the staff accompanying them is instantly taken back to bed. The only exception is the bathrooms. I think you might need to ask Dr. Ryan to see if she can find anything...nothing to endanger herself of course, but there are limits to what I can do. I'm going to try talking with some of the other patients here and see if they can give me any more insights._

Gibbs nodded in acceptance of Tim's suggestion. They had wanted to keep Dr. Ryan out of it, but it might be necessary to get her help more actively. Then, he noticed another couple of lines, scribbled last minute.

_If you guys have the time could you see about finding any information on the family of Kate Morrison? She hasn't been in contact with them in years and she says they disowned her and that she doesn't even know if they're still alive. If they still care about her, she deserves to have that._

"Oh, McGee," he said softly. He understood Tim wanting to help, but he was worried that he'd run into a major issue there.

Still, more things to think about, more plans to make. They only had a couple more weeks.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Over the next couple of days, Tim took a bit of a risk and started talking with other patients about the overall feel of the center, about the doctors in charge. He kept coming back to them in his mind. The patients themselves weren't part of it as far as he was concerned. This was a problem that had been going on for years. So a doctor. He'd filtered out quite a few, but the ones who were left...none of them seemed at all likely.

Two of them had been addicts in the past, and Tim would have thought that just having that experience would take them away from attacking people in the same position they had been...but, of course, Tim knew himself to be biased in that regard. He couldn't imagine attacking someone going through the same thing he did, particularly not if they were relying on him for help. He hadn't seen much of Dr. James, but he'd talked to other patients under the guise of curiosity about their progress, and Dr. James seemed very competent and trustworthy. Dr. Bowers was excellent in the group sessions Tim attended.

All these people seemed to be good people doing their best to help the patients in their care. ...but one of them was likely a serial killer. How in the world could he find out who it was?

Tim walked into his haven in the library, hoping for some time alone to think, but he heard someone crying. As he walked to the corner sitting area, he saw Kate.

"Kate, what's wrong?" he asked.

She looked up at him and smiled.

"Nothing, really. Just..."

Tim walked over and sat down.

"What is it?"

"Oh...I was talking with Dr. Bowers and...about how much trouble I've been having lately and...he just...made me more aware of how much pain I could cause by not making it."

"What do you mean?" Tim asked. That was the _last_ thing he would have thought someone like Kate needed to hear.

"He said that he'd lost someone close to him when he was younger, someone who had decided not to try to get off drugs. He said the man was high and didn't know what he was doing, but that he still committed murder."

"That doesn't mean that _you_ will," Tim said. "You're not like that guy. You're in here. You're trying. You'll make it, Kate. I know you can."

Kate shook her head. "I don't know, Tim. It's not going to happen for me like it is for you. You have a chance of getting clean and staying that way. The drugs I'm hooked on...even if the addiction is broken, I'll still feel that desire...and what's waiting for me out there? What if _I_ become the person who gets high and commits murder? I don't want that...not for anyone else, but not for myself."

...and Tim saw, perhaps for the first time, just how important it was to have someone there for support. Kate had no one and she was trying to do it without knowing why. So he took an even bigger risk and wrote out his number on a piece of paper and then handed it to her.

"What's this?"

"When you make it through all of this here, and if you haven't a reason to keep going, I want you to call me. Anytime. Day or night. Call me and I want to help you find that reason."

"I'm not your friend, Kate," she said, looking at the piece of paper without taking it. "I'll bet we're nothing alike, Tim."

"You're not like her, I admit. You don't look anything alike, I'd guess that you and she have very little in common. ...but Kate was a friend I lost. You're a friend I could gain...and good friends are hard to come by."

"And you think that _I_ could be a friend to you? Look at me, Tim! Really look at me!"

"I am. I have," Tim said. "I can see what time and the drugs have done to you...but I can also see that spark of life that everyone is born with...a spark that hasn't gone out. Maybe you can't change everything, but you can make a new life for yourself...if you have something to shoot for."

Kate looked at Tim, as if trying to ascertain whether or not he was being sincere.

"I mean it, Kate. I'll be out of here in a couple of weeks. Things are going like I hoped they would. I want you to have that, too...no matter how long it takes. I just want you to know that there's at least _one_ person who will miss you if you were to give up."

"And that person is you?"

"Yes. It is."

Kate's eyes filled with tears anew. She hugged Tim tightly and then left the library. Tim considered going after her, but he didn't, choosing to let her go and maybe think a little bit about the possibility he'd presented. If it were possible, she'd have more than just a near-stranger like himself waiting for her. He didn't know if it was...and he didn't know that _he_ was enough to keep Kate trying, but he'd done his best.

Absently, he began tracing the pattern of scars on his arm. His thoughts drifted from Kate to what she'd said about Dr. Bowers. From what little Gibbs had been able to tell him, they hadn't seen anything like that in Dr. Bowers' past. None of them had pasts indicating a potential for resenting recovering addicts. If what Dr. Bowers had said was the truth, then there was something they had missed...something that might be important. Gibbs wasn't going to be coming unless Tim asked for him to come. Maybe he could make use of Dr. Ryan. That would be best.

Decision made, Tim headed for his room to write the note he'd pass off to Dr. Ryan. He sat down on his bed and considered. Then, he took one of the cards that Gibbs had given him to use for giving important messages and started to write.

_We've missed something with Dr. Bowers. Maybe look for something in his younger years. There's a possibility that someone he cared for was killed by a drug addict. Kate mentioned it when we were talking today. If it weren't for talking to her, I wouldn't have known. It might be nothing. Dr. Bowers is a really good psychiatrist and I don't want this to be right, but... and I hope that you've found someone from Kate's family._

Then, he got to his feet and headed off to find Dr. Ryan, card tucked away out of sight in his pocket.

He saw her down the hall.

"Dr. Ryan? Could I talk to you for a minute?"

She looked at him.

"Is something wrong?"

"I don't know. Could we talk?"

"Of course."

She led Tim into her office and gestured for him to sit.

"What's up?"

"I need you to get a message to Gibbs for me. I don't know when he'll be coming back for a visit and I think this might be important and I want them to get on it right away."

Dr. Ryan looked a bit uncomfortable but she nodded.

"Dr. Ryan, this is important," Tim said. He could sense that she was nervous about this. "I know you're worried about your part in this, but I need your help here."

"Of course, Tim. I'm sorry. How do you deal with this kind of thing?"

"I'm no expert in being undercover, but you just deal with it because that's what you have to do. There's no other choice, really. You get it done."

Dr. Ryan took a breath and nodded again.

"I'll get it to him tonight after work."

"Thanks. I really appreciate this."

"I should be saying thanks to you, Tim. You're running a risk and all because you trusted me when I brought my suspicions to you."

"We thought your suspicions had merit, and if I'm right, we might have reason to investigate more openly."

"I hope so...for your sake as well as mine."

Tim smiled. "I'm actually appreciating some of the time I'm spending here. Therapy _can_ help no matter what the circumstance. ...and I've seen things here with the people, the patients that has made me appreciate so much more what I had when I was getting off benzos myself. It's easy to forget, but I had a lot of people pulling for me and I wouldn't have made it otherwise."

Dr. Ryan smiled. "I told you that therapy can always help if you let it."

Tim chuckled and stood up.

Dr. Ryan put out her hand. Tim shook it and headed back out. It was almost dinnertime and he wanted to be there to talk to others.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Dr. Ryan was heading out of the center. She was in a hurry. She didn't want to put off giving this message to NCIS, no matter how worried it made her. She hadn't read what Tim had written, feeling that she wouldn't be a good enough actress to maintain her usual attitude.

"Kathy! In a hurry?"

Dr. Ryan stopped halfway through the door and turned around.

"Greg, hi."

Dr. Bowers was coming over to her.

"In a hurry?" he asked again.

"Yeah. I'm meeting a friend and I don't want to keep him waiting."

"Him?" Dr. Bowers asked, grinning suggestively.

Dr. Ryan blushed. "He's just a friend."

"Well, I won't pry, but you dropped this on your way out. Too much of a hurry."

He held out the card Tim had written.

"Oh! Thank you! I hadn't even noticed."

She just barely kept herself from snatching it from Dr. Bowers, putting out her hand casually instead.

"You're on half-day tomorrow, aren't you?" he asked.

"Yeah. I'm on in the morning and then off in the evening."

"Lucky you."

"I'll be stopping by just before lights out to make sure Tim gets his medication, and I want to check with him. He's doing really well."

"Amazingly well, I agree," Dr. Bowers said. "Well, I don't want to keep you. I'll see you in the morning."

"Thanks, Greg. I really appreciate your help."

"It's my job."

Dr. Ryan smiled and him and hurried off to her car, relieved that she hadn't lost the note. She drove away from the center and dialed the number Gibbs had given her.

"_Gibbs."_

"Hello, Agent Gibbs? This is Dr. Ryan."

"_What is it?"_

"I have a message for you from Agent McGee. Can I drop it off for you?"

"_Yeah. I'm at NCIS. Come on over."_

"Okay."

Dr. Ryan breathed a sigh of relief that she was getting this passed off quickly. It was so far outside her realm of experience that she just didn't have the confidence Tim had. The sooner she could get the note in the hands of people who knew how to deal with it, the better.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Dr. Bowers walked slowly to his office, his mind working very fast. He'd always been a quick thinker...and an equally-quick actor, but he'd have to think hard about this. Planning ahead. He couldn't be stopped now.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

"Dr. Bowers again?" Tony asked. "What's changed?"

Gibbs had decided to wait until the next morning to get going on Tim's new tip. By the time Dr. Ryan had got to NCIS, everyone had been gone and it was late. So he had waited and now they were ready to get started anew.

"McGee heard something from one of the other patients. He thinks there might be something in his past that we missed the first time."

"And the second as well?" Ziva asked. "Of course we will check but where do we start?"

"Instead of looking for him, we look for things happening _around_ him. What if it was a friend, a girlfriend? No shared last name and it wouldn't be in his record."

Tony nodded. "Right. On it, Boss."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim suddenly felt paranoid when he was going about his morning. It was as if he was being watched but he couldn't figure out who it was. He met with Dr. Ryan and she was happy to tell him that his message has been passed on and Gibbs had promised to get going on it. Tim was glad of that...especially as his bad feeling increased.

"I have a half day today," Dr. Ryan said as Tim was getting ready to leave.

"What?"

"It's common practice here. So many of us have very little free time that it's a way of having our time off and still getting work done with our patients. It would look weird if I tried to get out of it. I'll be back tonight to give you your dose. No worries there. Everything else will go on as normal. _I_ just won't be on the premises."

"Right." Tim tried to calm himself down. It wasn't as though he spent all his time in Dr. Ryan's company, but she was his _only_ contact to the outside world. To have the contact gone made him uneasy.

"Is it really a problem, Tim? If so, I can use the excuse that I'd like to stay on until you're done here."

"No. No, if it will seem strange that you're not taking the time, then it's better that you stick with what's normal. I'll just grin and bear it. It's only for a few hours."

"That's right. I'm not running out on you, Tim. I promise."

"Yeah, I know."

Tim smiled and acted more than he probably had since coming here and pretended that he wasn't bothered by Dr. Ryan being gone, even for those few hours. He couldn't even blame his paranoia on that since he hadn't known it was coming.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"I may have something, Gibbs," Ziva called out.

They'd been searching for hours, looking at different angles to see if there was _anything_ that would support it.

"A woman was killed during a holdup at a convenience store. Her name was Marissa Garben. The thief was a drug addict who was going through withdrawal. He'd been in the system five times already and got out every time, still addicted. He was killed in a firefight with the police."

"And?" Tony asked.

"Guess who her boyfriend of three years was."

"Gregory Bowers."

"Exactly," Ziva said. "There was no trial since the man was killed. Only a news article."

"Anything about him in the article?"

"Very little."

"Where?"

"New Jersey. Trenton. Thirty years ago."

Tony shook his head. "So if he's our guy, how did he go from that to working at a rehab center for addicts and bumping them off?"

"His degrees are genuine," Ziva pointed out. "He took the time to go to school. Do you think this was his plan from the beginning?"

Gibbs looked at the article. His gut was telling him that this could very well be their serial killer. What Tim had found seemed to be genuine. Now, they needed to see if there was anything more than his gut and a news article to go on.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Hey, Tim."

Tim looked up from his book and smiled.

"Hey, Loren. What's up?"

"Dr. Bowers was looking for you."

"Really? What does he want?"

Loren shrugged. "Don't know. He just asked me to see if you could come to his office, said he needed to talk to you. Seemed pretty serious."

Tim nodded and got to his feet, feeling wary. There was no reason for Dr. Bowers to suspect him, but still...

"Okay. Thanks for letting me know. I'll go check it out. See what he wants."

"How much longer you got?"

"About a week."

"Way to go, Tim."

Tim smiled. "Thanks, Loren. How about you?"

"Eh...I've got a ways yet. Couple of months at best."

"That's still closer than you were."

"What are you? The resident cheerleader?"

Tim laughed. "Sure. Why not?"

Loren just shook his head and rolled his eyes. Tim chuckled and headed off down the hall. As soon as he was out of sight, however, he slowed his pace. They'd already had their group session today, and he'd never been in Dr. Bowers' office before. He took a breath and paused outside the door. It was probably nothing more than checking on him. Maybe Kate had talked to him about what he'd said yesterday and mentioned their conversation.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Okay, thank you, ma'am." Tony hung up.

"By your expression, I would guess that you have not found anything?" Ziva asked.

"No, I have, but I'm not sure what to make of it."

"What is it?"

"Well, I was talking to Tracy Liau, Marissa Garben's sister. She was really close to Bowers right after Marissa was killed."

"And?"

"And she said that to call him angry would have been an understatement. Bowers said more than once that he wished the man who had killed her had survived so that he could kill him. She said that he'd lost his way for a long time after. He kept the engagement ring he'd been planning to give her on a chain and wore all the time. She said that it took five years for him to really get his feet on the ground again...and he went back to school, focusing on drug rehabilitation."

"Was he still angry?"

"She said that she was surprised that he didn't seem angry at all. It was like he'd just flipped the switch."

"That is not likely," Ziva said. "Very few people can just let go like that with no after effects."

"Yeah."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Hi, Tim. No, don't sit. We're not staying here."

Tim furrowed his brow. Dr. Bowers seemed normal. No underlying tension, no appearance of anger or plotting. Tim knew that there was a chance of this being an act, but he couldn't think of any way Dr. Bowers would know about his suspicions.

"What's going on?"

Dr. Bowers led him to the medical room, where they kept the center's pharmacy. "Well, Kathy...Dr. Ryan called me about an hour ago and said that she was going to be delayed getting here and asked if I would give you your dose for the day."

"Oh...uh...no offense, Dr. Bowers...but that makes me uncomfortable."

Dr. Bowers smiled. "I understand. We don't like to move things around like this, but you can't go without it and she's not going to make it here. Since I'm your group therapy supervisor, it makes the most sense for me to do it. I'm sure that's why she called me. Besides that, I know that Dr. James and Dr. Patterson are both swamped today. Dr. Patterson even had to cancel her group session."

Tim nodded. He knew that was true. As long as he could see the bottle and the pills himself, he would know the difference.

"Okay. I'm sorry."

"Oh, no. I understand. I've been working with recovering addicts for years. You get into a routine, the way things are supposed to be and you don't like the changes because it's less regimented."

Tim nodded again, relaxing slightly when he recognized his bottle of pills. He knew that Dr. Ryan kept them locked in her desk. Maybe he was just imagining things.

"Okay. Just let me make sure I get the dosage right. We wouldn't want to make a mistake, would we."

"No. Definitely not."

Dr. Bowers turned away from Tim for a moment and Tim took the opportunity to take a deep breath, trying to dispel his worry.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Dr. Ryan woke up feeling very groggy. She recognized the sensation as being the result of a fast-acting sedative. There was a bit of amnesia about what had happened. It would likely clear up soon. Then, it registered belatedly on her senses that she was in the dark, that she was confined in a very small space.

A car trunk. She felt around. Her purse was missing, but she recognized the few things she kept in trunk. It was her own car. She felt around for the emergency release. She knew it was there even if she'd never been locked in her own trunk before. She found it and pulled. Nothing happened. She pulled again, feeling more anxious. Nothing. Frightened, she began pounding on the trunk.

"Help me! Help me! Somebody!"

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Okay, Abbs. Talk to me."

Abby turned around with a smile. "Hey, Gibbs!"

"Jethro, you are right on time, just as Abigail predicted. We have found quite a bit of interesting material for you," Ducky said, gesturing at the monitor.

"I wish you'd tell me," Gibbs said and raised his eyebrows.

"Of course, of course. You may do the honors, Abigail. You will be much quicker. Although we both get off topic, you do so at a much faster rate than..."

"Ducky!"

"Sorry, sorry."

Abby just laughed and got started. "Well, we've been comparing all the cases from Sunrise Rehab, the nature of the death and stuff, and we found that Eric Fogel's death is the only one that veers from the others. He's the only one who was shot. The others were all only drugs, but Fogel did have that overdose of methadone in his system."

"The others were all killed with a drug that made a diagnosis of simple accidental or suicidal overdose possible. These were all people who were on their last chance and a return to drugs not unexpected. Just tragic."

"Okay. So what about Fogel?"

"Well, it's possible that he wasn't supposed to be killed, but that he saw something. From what Tim told us, He'hea had slipped again, just before her death. Everyone at the center seems to have known about it. ...and he had the drug dealing thing, too. Maybe the killer hoped it would look like he was going back to his old ways."

"There is something else," Ducky added. "Two people dying of a drug overdose on the same night would be strange at best. More scrutiny. If PFC Fogel simply disappeared, then his death would be automatically separated from the death of He'hea Romrell. This indicates that, if PFC Fogel's murder _is_ related to these other deaths, that the perpetrator is very well able to think of all the possible ramifications of his actions. This is an intelligent person. Cunning and intending to kill."

"And strong, Gibbs," Abby said. "He would have to be able to restrain a trained Marine. Fogel wasn't at his best, but he was still a Marine! No way would your average person be able to take him out."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

When Dr. Bowers spun around, it was such an expected action that Tim was completely unprepared, even if he had still been a little wary. Before he knew it, Dr. Bowers had him by throat, with an arm twisted behind his back. Tim instantly started to struggle, but it was too late. All the bulk Dr. Bowers had was muscle, and while Tim was almost as tall, Dr. Bowers was much larger.

Dr. Bowers forced him face down on the floor, pushing him hard enough that Tim's breath was knocked out of him and he gasped for air. That was all the weakness Dr. Bowers needed, even as Tim feebly struggled against him.

Even as he did fight to get away, one slightly warped part of him had a sudden thought.

_So I guess I was right about him..._

But then, Dr. Bowers pulled him off the floor and forced him onto an exam table. Tim was still fighting to get away, but unfortunately, the table had restraints. In spite of his best efforts, Tim was shortly strapped to the table, unable to move...although that didn't stop him from trying.

"You're stronger than I thought you were, Tim," Dr. Bowers said, breathing heavily.

He turned away.

"I'm full of surprises," Tim said.

"Yes, I'm sure you are. You certainly fooled me for too long...and believe it or not, I'm sorry that it has to be this way."

"It doesn't."

"Yes, it does. You'll try to stop me, and I can't have that."

Then, Dr. Bowers turned back...with a syringe in his hand, and Tim knew what it must be.

"No," Tim whispered.

"I'm sorry."

"No!"

Tim began to pulled against the restraints, but Dr. Bowers had too many years experience with addicts to be stopped by a struggling patient. He pinned Tim's arm to the table and he injected the contents of the syringe into his vein. Tim tried not to cry. This was something he had dreaded for the entire two years of being clean, being forced to take drugs again.

"It won't take long for that to hit you," Dr. Bowers said. "We'll just wait for it to take effect. I can't do the rest of it until tonight, but we can't have you walking around free, can we."

"Don't..."

"Too late. So, I have to know. It wasn't all an act, was it. I would swear that everything you've shared in group has been genuine. No one is that good an actor. You _were_ an addict."

"Yes."

"I thought so. It's gratifying to know that I wasn't completely taken in. Well, I _was_, but it was because you used truth to perpetrate the lie. Clever. Very clever."

Tim looked at Dr. Bowers. Already, he could feel the coming relaxation, the almost euphoric releasing of tension, but this time, he didn't want it and he tried to fight it.

"Where's Dr. Ryan?"

"Taking a nap. Oh, don't worry. I didn't kill her. I think it's pretty clear that she doesn't know anything about me. She would have been too nervous. I know that card she was carrying was from you. I recognize the writing."

Tim began to feel like the room was spinning and he was drowsy. His heart rate was slowing even while he was struggling to stay awake. He remembered this sensation, the feeling of everything in the world slowing down as his body slowed down. In the past, it was all that had made his world manageable. Now, it was like signing his death warrant.

"Why?" Tim mumbled.

"I wouldn't have done anything to you, you know, if you had beenwhat you pretended to be. I find it admirable when a person throws his whole being into changing who he is and fixing his past mistakes. But this is a last chance place. Once they use up their last chance, that's it."

Tim's head lolled about on the table. He had to fight falling asleep, but maybe if he pretended that he _had_ succumbed, Dr. Bowers would leave.

The problem was that his brain was slowing along with the rest of him, and it was getting hard to think. Like thinking through cotton. He had no idea how much Dr. Bowers had given him, but it must have been a lot. This felt more like his one time with an overdose before.

Tim let his eyelids slip closed and then tried to stay still while staying awake.

"Don't worry, Tim. You won't feel a thing when the end comes. Like I said, your successful effort is admirable."

The door opened and closed. Tim opened his eyes slightly and groaned.

After two years, he was on drugs again.

Only this time, it looked like it would be only for a short time.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

There were a lot of whispers going through the Sunrise Rehab. Everyone seemed to know that Tim, the most positive patient at the center, had taken more of his drugs than he was supposed to, that he had fallen off the wagon and was being held in the center's medical room until the drugs were out of his system and they could evaluate what would be best to do.

Kate heard the same whispers everyone else did, and she was horrified. She couldn't believe that Tim would do this, not when he had been talking so positively about how things had been going and how he was almost free. Tim was the model of what a recovering addict was supposed to be. He made it look so easy.

She couldn't bear the idea and decided to sneak down to the medical room after hours to see Tim for herself.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Everyone was still at NCIS later that night. They didn't want to leave, as if expecting something else to happen, some new piece of information that would make everything clearer.

"Maybe we should think about pulling McGee out of there," Tony said. "If this guy is the one, he's really dangerous."

"Yes, it is a huge risk. If Ducky is correct, then, he was willing to kill Fogel and took the steps required to cover his murder...almost successfully. If he had not been in the Marine Corps..."

Gibbs nodded. He had to admit that the scenario of Dr. Bowers being their killer made a lot of sense. The problem was that the didn't have anything besides circumstantial evidence to bring to bear. But Tim could be in more and more danger the more they found out. The more information they got from others, the more likely it was that something would get back to Dr. Bowers, and if he was as smart as he seemed, he might be able to put two and two together.

"I'll go see him tomorrow. See about getting him out early, if he thinks it might be a good idea."

Tony and Ziva both nodded, looking relieved. The more they learned about Dr. Bowers, the more dangerous he seemed.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

The door to the medical room was unlocked. Kate felt very nervous. More edgy than she'd been in a long while. She wished that she could take something...something to help her feel better...and then she felt horrible about that wish. That was what Tim had apparently done.

She wasn't supposed to be here, but she snuck inside. Tim was on one of the exam tables, his eyes closed.

"Oh, Tim," she said, almost whimpering. "How could you?"

To her surprise, Tim's eyes flickered opened. They were glazed and he himself didn't seem to be seeing her very well.

"Kate," he mumbled and tried to wake up.

"Tim, you were doing so well! What happened?"

"Kate...help..."

"What do you mean? I can't. I don't know what to do about this. You just have to detox."

"No..." Tim shook his head. "No...need you to...call.."

"Call who? How will that help?"

"Gibbs...call Gibbs...tell him..."

"Who is Gibbs?"

Tim looked more than a little out of it. Kate wasn't sure she should keep listening to him. He could be delusional for all she knew.

"555-3590...call Gibbs...tell him..."

"How will that help?"

"Same as...as at the...hospital...tell him that...tell him...he'll know...please...please, Kate."

"Tim, why didn't you tell me you were having trouble? You didn't need to pretend for me. We're all in the same boat here!"

Tim seemed to exert a great effort to focus.

"Kate...I need you...to trussss...me...please. Jussss...once. Trusssss..."

"I'm not going to help you get more drugs, Tim. I won't do that to you."

"No...not...not that...thasss...not...thissss... Please...call Gibbs..."

"Okay...okay, Tim. I will, but what you did is wrong!"

"No...Gibbs..."

"What's the number again?"

"555..." Tim appeared to be drifting away again. "555...3590. Call...please..."

"Okay. I will," Kate said, fighting back tears. If this was a friend of Tim's they deserved to know, but it would probably cause them as much pain as it was causing her.

She ran out of the medical room and headed for the front desk. No one in the center carried a phone. That was part of the deal, but if they had a reason, the person manning the front desk would usually let them make a supervised call.

"Kate, what's wrong?"

"I need to use the phone, Lisa. Please?"

"Who are you calling?"

"A friend of Tim's. He asked me to tell him what he'd done."

"You know you shouldn't have gone in there, Kate," Lisa said.

"I know, but I had to see him."

"I understand. You can use this phone here instead of in the main visiting room. I'll just slide over. Don't take too long. I don't want to get in trouble for letting you use a public phone, and I'm off duty in ten minutes."

Kate nodded and dialed the number.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Dr. Bowers let himself into the medical room and looked at Tim, almost with sympathy. Too bad that he had to ruin a good man's reputation and take away his life, but if the work was to go on, it had to happen. Sometimes, the innocent were lost in clearing the way for more truth and light. Marissa had died, and he had been lost for a long time...until he had finally understood his true purpose, his calling. He helped those who could be helped, but the ones who couldn't...they had to be removed from the equation. There was no hope for them and all that could come from them was evil. Violence. Death. Better that they died before anyone else had to die. How many lives had he saved by taking care of the detritus of society? He knew no one would understand or accept what he was doing. They didn't want to believe that what he did was necessary. If it came right down to it, he regretted that it was necessary, but he knew that his work was important.

He fingered the old chain around his neck. He kept the ring hidden beneath his shirt, but he remembered the loss of Marissa every day when he put it on. It helped him remember what he needed to do.

"You were on temazepam," he said to Tim.

Tim's eyes flickered open and stared at him vaguely. Dr. Bowers smiled. He'd already given Tim a whole lot more than the typical 15-mg dose of temazepam. It was for both their sakes. Tim's death was an unfortunate necessity. It wasn't a punishment.

"Don't...do...this..."

Dr. Bowers laughed. "No sense in wasting your energy, Tim. This is how it's going to be. I have important work to do, and I can't do that in prison. You have to die to serve the greater good. You know...it's too bad that all you ever used were benzodiazepines. It's hard to get to a lethal dose. Most people recover from overdoses...like you right now. I gave you a lot. Enough that, if it were something else, you'd already be dead. But benzos synergize with other drugs very well. Did you know that? That's why they're often used with others because they augment the effects."

Dr. Bowers walked to the pharmacy and unlocked the cupboard.

"Let's see. I know. Amitriptyline. It's a tri-cyclic antidepressant, you know. Very dangerous in overdose. We don't use it nearly so much now. You might be wondering why we have so many drugs on hand in a rehab center, but did you know that a lot of addicts also have mental illnesses? That's one of the reasons some of them turned to drugs. When we get the mental illness in hand, then we can help them that much better."

"They'll...fin...you..."

"I doubt it, but it is possible. Hmmm. You make a good point. I think I might have to make use of your friend Kate. She's been teetering on the brink anyway. I had about decided to give up on her. It makes sense, though, now that I think about it. She'll feel so betrayed by your fall that she breaks in here during the night, kills you with the drugs you betrayed her with and then will kill herself. That will make more sense."

"No...not...Kate...can't...die again..."

"Again?"

Tim's eyes were continually slipping closed. Dr. Bowers decided that he was a bit delusional.

"Normally, we have our patients on pills. Easier to take. Less painful, but we get them started with the injected form. It's easier in that it's harder for them to get to and we have a lot more control. Yes, this will work fine."

He filled a syringe half with amitriptyline and filled it the rest of the way with temazepam. It was a combination he'd never heard of before. New experiences all around here. He walked back to Tim and lifted his arm. To his surprise, Tim actually tried to get away.

"Still there, huh? Are you _sure_ you haven't been taking benzos on the fly?"

"Clean...two...years..."

"Too bad that's all over now...but at least you won't be around to be an addict again."

He took a firm hold of Tim's arm and injected the drugs.

"It'll be a terrible tragedy. What a sad thing for the undercover cop to be killed on the verge of ending the operation...and another life lost because of you." He clicked his tongue in disappointment and started cleaning up. It wouldn't do to have everything lying around. He might have to think about making tracks. There were addicts everywhere. It didn't really matter where he worked.

As long as the work didn't stop.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Gibbs picked up his phone and looked at the number. It wasn't familiar. Tony and Ziva had just left. He was about to leave himself.

"Hello. This is Gibbs."

The person on the other end of the line was crying.

"_Hello? I'm sorry."_

"Who is this?" Gibbs asked.

"_My name is Kate. I'm friends with Tim."_

"What's wrong, Kate?"

"_Tim took drugs again!"_

Gibbs stopped in his tracks.

"What?"

"_He'd been doing so well. We were all so happy for him, but he must have been having trouble today and he took drugs! He's been really out of it, but he asked me to call you and...and tell you that it's just like at the hospital. He said you'd understand."_

Gibbs furrowed his brow in confusion.

"That's all he said?"

"_He was so out of it. I wasn't sure if I should call, but...but he begged me to. So I said I would. I'm really sorry that I have to tell you this. I'd been...almost relying on him because he was someone I should emulate. He expressed a lot of interest in me. ...and now, this!"_

Gibbs tried to think around the fact that Tim had taken drugs again. He wouldn't have thought it was possible. Tim _had_ been doing well...for longer than this Kate could possibly know.

"Thanks for telling me, Kate."

"_I should be in bed right now, but I had to tell you."_

"Thanks. I'll make sure I come tomorrow to see him. Was he all right?"

"_I think so. They didn't call for an ambulance or anything...but..."_

"I understand. Thanks, Kate."

Gibbs hung up. He wanted to say that it was impossible, but wasn't this what they had all feared?

...and then, the realization of what Kate had told him hit him with the force of a ton of bricks. Words that Tim had spoken only a few months ago.

"_I will never put myself at risk of becoming an addict again, Boss. Never. There is nothing that I wouldn't put on the line to avoid that. Nothing. I don't care what it is, even if it's my life."_

Tim _wouldn't_ take drugs again. He had developed the _opposite_ problem. Tim had repeated it over and over again.

"_Never again."_

But he believed that Kate was being honest as far as she knew. Tim _was_ on drugs again...to the extent that he couldn't express himself clearly, but he knew that he couldn't and gave the only message he could manage. A warning. He was on drugs and it wasn't something he'd chosen to do because he wouldn't make that choice ever again.

Tim was on the verge of becoming the next victim.

They'd been too slow.

Now, they might be too late to save him. Gibbs ran out of NCIS, calling Tony and Ziva as he ran. Ducky was in the parking lot, and Gibbs grabbed him. They might need a doctor on hand.

...and as he did that, he wondered what had happened to Dr. Ryan. Why wasn't she around to stop this from happening? How had Dr. Bowers got to Tim?

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Dr. Ryan pounded and pounded on the trunk of the car, trying to get out, crying in despair.

"Someone, please, help me!"


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

"Jethro, if this is as serious as you believe it to be, I won't be able to help to the degree that Timothy may need."

"I'm aware of that."

"Then..."

Gibbs took a breath. "Call for an ambulance. They won't be able to go in until we make sure it's safe, but...call them."

"You're that certain?"

"Yes. Tony and Ziva will meet us there."

"Very well." Ducky pulled out his phone and started to dial. "I hope you're wrong."

"So do I."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim strangely felt more awake than he had before...and he kind of was regretting it. It was hard for him to breathe. He felt as though his lungs had just looked at each other and given up. The weird thing was that he couldn't feel worried about it. Part of him knew that he should, but he wasn't. He was slowly suffocating and he didn't seem to mind. It was unpleasant but he couldn't do anything about it.

He managed to move his head to the side, looking for his killer. Again, he could think the word without any real emotion. Dr. Bowers was looking at him with a bit of bemusement.

"This is not the reaction I was expecting. You _are_ full of surprises, Tim."

Tim couldn't speak. He mumbled something meaningless.

"It won't take much longer though, I don't think. Good. I can go and get Kate soon."

"...nnnnnoooo..." Tim managed to say.

"Oh, Tim. Your view is too limited. I wish you would understand, but no one would. So I suppose I can't blame you for lacking the view...being the sacrifice for the greater good."

Tim let his head fall back. That had taken more energy than he had. He wished the drowsiness would take over again.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Lisa gathered up her stuff and left. Kate's call had worried her a bit, but Kate had said she would be fine. She was just upset. It _was_ too bad about Tim. Some people did go that route, although Tim hadn't seemed the type from what little she'd seen of him. To make sure that Kate didn't get into any trouble walking back to her room, Lisa took her there herself. They ran into Joe, the head of maintenance, but he just gestured for them to go on. He always took it hard when one of the patients slipped. After dropping Kate off, Lisa headed out to her car.

As she walked through the parking lot, she thought she heard a thumping sound. She looked around and didn't see anyone.

Then, she thought she heard a voice.

"Hello?" she called out.

This was a safe area, but there was always the possibility of something going wrong. The thumping sound came again. She walked toward it and noticed that it was coming from Dr. Ryan's car...but Dr. Ryan hadn't been in all day, not even tonight when they'd expected her.

She hurried over and noticed that the lock on the trunk had been broken.

"Hello?" she called again.

"Lisa? Is that you?"

"Dr. Ryan?"

"Yes! Help!"

"Okay...um...I'm not sure what to do."

"You should be able to pull a lever on the back seat that will open it up. It's broken from my side!"

"Okay!"

Lisa hurried over and got in the back, relieved that the car was already unlocked. Then, she found the lever and pulled. Nothing happened. She pulled again, as hard as she could. Finally, the latch gave and she fell back against the front seats. The small opening was just large enough for Dr. Ryan to get out. She looked frightened, overwhelmed and she hugged Lisa tightly after she got out.

"Thank you! Thank you so much! I was afraid I'd be stuck in there...all night."

"It's nearly ten o'clock now, Dr. Ryan."

Dr. Ryan sat up and visibly tried to pull herself together.

"Lisa, do you have your phone on you?"

"Yeah. Of course. Why? What happened?"

"I need to make a call."

"Oh...speaking of..." Lisa said as she dug through her purse. "Dr. Ryan, did you know that Tim got into the drugs and took some today?"

"What?"

"Yeah. Everyone was talking about it. Dr. Bowers said that he got into the supply in your office."

Dr. Ryan's eyes widened.

"When did this happen?"

"This afternoon. Kate was really broke up about it."

"And...Dr. Bowers said this?"

"Yeah. He said he'd keep watch tonight and let Dr. Patterson and Dr. James leave early. You know how busy they were today. I had to stay late just to help with all the paperwork."

"Oh, no. Lisa, I need your phone right now."

"Okay."

Lisa handed it over and then looked up in surprise as three cars screeched to a stop in front of the building.

"Who's that?"

Dr. Ryan thrust Lisa's phone back at her.

"The people I was going to call."

She got out of the car and stumbled. Lisa tried to help her, but Dr. Ryan seemed almost possessed.

"Agent Gibbs!" she called. "Agent Gibbs! Tim is in big trouble!"

Gibbs stopped in his forward motion and looked at her.

"What happened?"

"Someone locked me in the trunk of my car. Lisa just found me and got me out. I've been in there for hours. Lisa told me that..."

"That McGee apparently took drugs."

"Yeah."

"McGee? Who's that?" Lisa asked, feeling like there was a conversation going on that she really didn't understand.

"We're going in now. Ducky, you stay out here with Dr. Ryan."

"No, Agent Gibbs," Dr. Ryan said. "This is my doing. I'm going in with you. If it's as bad as it could be, you'll need a doctor on hand."

"An ambulance is on the way."

"I'm coming," she said.

Gibbs looked frustrated but finally he nodded.

"Fine. You stay behind us. Got it?"

Dr. Ryan nodded but looked terrified. She glanced at Lisa.

"Thank you again, Lisa. I'll try to explain everything later."

"Okay..."

Lisa looked at the older gentleman who was standing on the sidewalk.

"Excuse me, sir?"

"Yes, my dear?"

"Could you tell me what's going on?"

"Hopefully, nothing," he said. "...but I fear it may turn into a fight for a man's life."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Where will he be?" Gibbs demanded as they ran inside.

"We have a room we use for any minor medical problems. It's also where we keep our pharmacy. If Greg didn't want to arouse suspicion, he would use that room."

"You know about Bowers?"

"Only that he apparently lied to everyone and said that Tim took his drugs from my office. ...the dummy pills."

Gibbs nodded. "Where is it?"

Dr. Ryan pointed a shaking finger.

"See the sign?"

Gibbs nodded.

"Ziva, take point. Tony, behind me. Dr. Ryan..._way_ behind."

They took off toward the indicated room. The door was closed...and when they tried to open it, it was locked.

Then, they heard a muffled scream.

"On three," Gibbs said quietly. "One, two...three!"

He kicked open the door.

"Freeze! NCIS!" he shouted.

Tony and Ziva called out the same thing as the three of them poured into the room.

Dr. Bowers had a syringe in his hand and a woman held down on the floor. She was struggling to get away.

"Put it down, Bowers," Gibbs said.

"Drop it," Tony said as Dr. Bowers' gaze turned to him.

A strangled gasp for breath caught their attention, but Gibbs kept his eyes on the man who was obviously ready to kill.

"Drop it or you're dead," Tony repeated.

"This woman is a patient at the center. She became violent and irrational," Dr. Bowers said.

"Help..." she whimpered from the floor. "...don't...don't let him..."

"Let...her...go," Gibbs said.

Dr. Bowers sighed and loosened his grip. The woman jumped to her feet and ran toward Gibbs, hiding behind him. She was much older than he'd thought she was at first...but she was clearly terrified.

"Put down the syringe, Bowers."

"I'm a doctor at this center."

"Not for long."

"Gibbs!" Ziva said, urgently from the side. "It is McGee."

"Put down the syringe," Gibbs ordered. He was just about ready to shoot him on principle and to save time. "Last warning."

Another sigh and Dr. Bowers rolled his eyes before setting the syringe carefully on the floor.

"You have no idea what you're doing," he said.

He sounded way too sane.

"Yes, I do," Tony said. "I'm putting you under arrest for multiple counts of murder and attempted murder of a federal agent."

Tony cuffed Dr. Bowers while reading him his rights, and Gibbs hurried over to the table where Tim was lying. He was strapped to it, although the straps seemed unnecessary. Ziva was removing them. Tim's eyes were open to tiny slits and he was barely breathing. If he was conscious, there was not much getting through.

"McGee!" Gibbs said loudly.

No response.

"Dr. Ryan! In here, now! Ziva, go make sure the paramedics know where to come."

Ziva nodded and ran out of the room as Dr. Ryan ran in. She hesitated for a moment at the scene before her. Kate was sitting on a chair, sobbing. Dr. Bowers was in handcuffs, being held securely by Tony, and Tim...

"Over here, Dr. Ryan."

She squared her shoulders and nodded, clearly steeling herself to focus on the task at hand.

"Tim?" she said softly.

No response.

She began to check Tim's respiration, his pulse.

"He's dying," she said and turned around to face Dr. Bowers. "Do you hear me? He's _dying_! What did you give him?"

Dr. Bowers said nothing, but they were all taken by surprise when Dr. Ryan walked over to him and punched him in the face. She didn't have a large build, but she must have worked out regularly because Dr. Bowers reeled against Tony and had to be rebalanced.

"What did you give him? Tell me!"

In spite of the fact that he was in handcuffs and that he would shortly be sporting a black eye, Dr. Bowers seemed quite unruffled by the situation.

"Well, if you really want to know, I gave him a combination of amitriptyline and temazepam. I would have just used temazepam, but it's harder to get a lethal overdose with benzodiazepines. He doesn't have much longer, and there's no real effective antidote to benzodiazepines anyway. Because I used injection, there's not much you can do for the amitriptyline either. Might as well just let it happen. It'll be easier for him than trying to keep him alive."

Gibbs glared darkly. "Get him out of here, DiNozzo...and don't kill him on your way!"

Tony yanked Dr. Bowers out of the room.

"Dr. Ryan..."

Dr. Ryan looked at Gibbs, her expression stricken.

"He might be right, Agent Gibbs. What he said about the drugs is true."

"What can we do to help?"

"He needs oxygen. Basically, his body is shutting down, CNS is being suppressed. His lungs aren't functioning properly. He's going to die if we can't get him to a hospital."

Ducky burst into the room with indecent haste.

"Jethro...I saw... Oh, dear. What happened?"

Dr. Ryan put an oxygen mask over Tim's face.

"Bowers gave him temazepam and...something else, probably an overdose."

"Amitriptyline," Dr. Ryan said.

Ducky's expression told him everything he needed to know. Dr. Ryan hadn't been kidding.

"Come on, Tim," Dr. Ryan said. "Fight it!"

Gibbs joined Ducky by the table and looked at Tim's limp form for a second and then did the only thing he could think of.

_Thwack!_

Tim's eyes opened slightly.

"Boss..." he mumbled, barely intelligibly.

"You need to fight it, McGee. You can't give up now."

Tim put out one hand, searching for...

"Kate..."

Gibbs looked around.

"Are you Kate?" he asked.

The sobbing woman nodded.

"Come over here."

She got to shaky feet and hesitated.

"What's going on?" she whimpered.

"Tim is a federal agent. He's been undercover here, trying to find out who killed Eric Fogel and He'hea Romrell."

"This was all a lie?"

"No." Did they have time for this? Gibbs decided that they did, if only because Kate was as much a victim here as Tim, even if her life wasn't literally on the line at this point. "He _was_ an addict two years ago, but he's been clean since then. We picked him to go undercover because he could be honest about what he experienced and how it felt. ...and he needs to know that you're okay right now. All right?"

"Okay." Tentatively, Kate walked over to Tim. "Tim, I'm here. I'm okay."

Tim's eyes opened about halfway.

"Kate...not dead...?"

"No, I'm not. They got Dr. Bowers before he could..." She swallowed back tears.

"He...misssed?"

Kate furrowed her brow and looked at Gibbs. Gibbs knew what Tim was probably thinking...insofar as what he was doing could be _called_ thinking at all.

"He's mixing you up with another Kate, a friend of his. She was shot."

"Oh...I'm not that Kate, Tim. I'm okay."

"...glad...can't..." Tim's eyes drifted closed.

"Stay awake, Tim," Kate said. "I need you to stay awake!"

Gibbs stayed back, no matter how much he wanted to be involved. Looking at this woman, he was surprised that Tim had managed to get to her. She had a hard-bitten exterior, beauty and softness worn away by years of neglect and drug use. All it had taken was one person to show an interest in her as a human being. He hadn't done much looking for her family, but he promised himself that, no matter what happened to Tim, he would find them.

He heard noise out in the hall and saw paramedics coming...and then heard Tim speak one more time.

Just one word. He managed to take hold of Kate's hand and get enough breath to speak.

"Beautiful."

There was a timeless moment when the look on Kate's face was almost one of shock. And then the paramedics came in, listened to Dr. Ryan's recommendations, allowed Ducky to come along and then rushed Tim out of the room, Ducky in tow.

After they were gone, Kate sank down onto a chair and started crying again. Instantly, Dr. Ryan shifted from caring for Tim to caring for Kate. She put a comforting arm around Kate's shoulders and started talking to her in low tones.

"Dr. Ryan?" Gibbs asked.

"I'm fine, Agent Gibbs. I'll stay here. Goodness knows, _someone_ needs to be here to deal with all this upset. ...but let me know...will you?"

"Yeah. You're going to have people in and out."

"I understand."

Gibbs looked at Kate and tried to see in her what Tim must have.

"Kate?"

She looked up at him. "Yes?"

"Tim wasn't lying to you. Okay?"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. He didn't tell you about being undercover because he couldn't, but everything else...Tim doesn't lie unless it's absolutely necessary. He wouldn't make something up just to make you feel better."

"He wasn't really seeing me," she said, her voice hoarse.

"Maybe not, but he still wasn't lying."

"Gibbs?"

The voice made him turn.

"Yeah, Ziva."

"I am worried that one of us will kill this man if we keep him here any longer. McGee did not look...good."

"All right. We'll get him to lockup."

"I called Agent Lovitz. He is coming."

"Good."

"Ducky said he would call Abby from the hospital."

"Good." That was a definitely heartfelt sentiment. He looked back at Dr. Ryan and Kate.

"We'll be fine, Agent Gibbs. You can go. I'll wait for your other agent to get here."

Gibbs nodded and followed Ziva out of that awful room. He heard Dr. Ryan and Kate coming out behind him, but his mind was all on what he had to do in order to be free to get to the hospital. Tim hadn't looked good and from what Dr. Ryan had said, the prospects weren't good either.

More than anything else, he didn't want Tim to die of a drug overdose.

It just wouldn't be fair.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

The ride to the hospital was one of the longest Ducky could recall. He was helping to the degree he could, but that was mostly forcing air into Tim's lungs, keeping him going through a parody of breathing. When they got him to the hospital, he would be intubated and that would keep his lungs functioning, but all they could do until then was just enough to keep Tim from dying and, hopefully, from any brain damage due to inefficient gas exchange.

The worst of it was, Ducky decided, that there was no sign that Tim was fighting it at all. No sign of life really. He was as limp as any body.

"His pulse is irregular."

Ducky knew that was bad. As the paramedic checked Tim's heart beat, his expression was grave.

"Tachycardic?" Ducky asked.

"Yes."

"We're thirty seconds out! They're ready for us."

"Good. He's headed toward V-tach."

"Oh, dear."

Nevertheless, Tim survived the trip to the hospital. Ducky helped them unload him from the ambulance...and then, was forced to stay behind while they hurried Tim into the ER. He stood in the doorway, watching their frantic efforts to stablize him.

"This another OD?"

The question came from one of the staff, and the tone infuriated Ducky. He forgot that he wasn't in charge, that he was just a concerned friend. He would _not_ allow Timothy to be disparaged in that manner.

"This man is a federal agent who was _attacked_!" he said, angrily.

The staff looked at him in surprise.

"I will _not_ allow you to speak of him this way. He has done more than you could possibly imagine and deserves your respect and your best efforts. He does _not_ deserve to be put down, even if he can't hear you. He is not just _another OD_. He is a human being and one who has not asked for the situation he is in."

There was a look of chagrine on the resident's face, but then...

"V-tach!"

...and Ducky was forgotten, except by a nurse who urged him out of the room.

"We'll do our best, sir," she said, very sincerely. "Please...go to the waiting room."

Ducky acquiesced and reluctantly walked to the room and sat down to wait. It was at times like this that he regretted his medical knowledge. He knew that all they could do for Tim was treat his symptoms. He knew that there were significant difficulties involved in trying to resolve respiratory depression. He knew that V-tach could lead to ventricular fibrillation, asystole and death. He knew that, even if they were able to stop those things from happening, Tim could fall into a coma or die...or both. He knew all those things and it gave him no comfort to know them.

He sat alone on a couch, waiting for news, hoping it would be good, fearing it would be bad. ...and knowing that he could do nothing more than wait.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Temazepam and amitriptyline."

"Yeah. Blood tests show quite a bit. Over 70 mg of temazepam. At 150 of amitriptyline."

"Is he stable?"

"Almost."

"Almost?"

"We've got him intubated and so far, we've resolved the V-tach. I don't know how long this state will last, though. He's in a bad way. I'm surprised he's still alive at all."

"All right. We'll keep him under observation in the ICU. If he stays stable for the next twelve hours, we'll let him have visitors. Anyone waiting?"

"Last check, yeah. Quite a few."

"I'll go and talk to them."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tony felt wide awake. Very wide awake. He couldn't erase the image in his mind of seeing Tim lying on the table...seemingly dead. They'd all been waiting for hours for someone to come out and talk to them. Abby was hugging Gibbs tightly, her head resting on his shoulder. Ducky seemed distraught. Jimmy was sitting next to him. Ziva was sitting next to Tony, silent and motionless in that way she had.

Finally, after an eternity on uncomfortable chairs, a doctor came out who looked like he had news. He looked at the group and walked toward them. Gibbs was on his feet in a second. Tony was up only moments after.

"There's news?" Tony blurted out. "Is Tim all right?"

The expression on the doctor's face was anything but comforting.

"I'm Dr. Norman. Your friend's condition is still unstable. We have him in the ICU and we're going to watch him closely for the next twelve hours. If he can maintain his current status, we'll allow visitors. Right now..." He shook his head.

"What's happening?" Ducky asked. "Please, Dr. Norman, we need to know."

"Agent McGee is on a ventilator which is keeping him from respiratory arrest. His heart rate is still irregular, but we've managed to resolve the V-tach. He's essentially in a coma, but his vitals are so unstable that we aren't sure from minute to minute whether he'll improve at all, or even remain in his current state. It will take anywhere from 12 to 36 hours for the amitriptyline to go through his system, and upwards of 72 hours for the temazepam. I'm not going to lie to you. This is iffy at best. He's survived so far, which is good, but we don't know how long it will take before we know if he'll make it any further. And we have no way of knowing how this has affected his brain."

Abby whimpered and hugged Gibbs tightly. No one else said a word for a few seconds.

"Can we see him?"

"No. Not yet. We're not letting anyone back for the next twelve hours. There's no negotiation here. We're keeping a close watch on him, and we don't want anyone in the way if things go south."

"And you think it's likely," Ducky said softly.

"Yes. Quite frankly, I'll be surprised if he manages to stabilize in the next twelve hours. It _could_ happen, but it's much more likely that he'll have more than one crisis before this is over...whichever way it goes."

There was a shocked silence and maybe that was what goaded Tony into speaking. He couldn't stand it.

"Tim was on drugs a couple of years ago, but he got clean. Could this be like it is because of that?"

"I would venture to say that, if he _has_ been clean for two years...it probably would not have any effect, although it's possible that it's the reason he's survived so far."

"What?"

"If there's any kind of...memory, I guess you could call it, in his body, it may be that his previous drug use has made his body more used to having the drug in his system. It's possible. I wouldn't dare be certain one way or the other."

"Twelve hours?" Gibbs asked.

"At least. We'll reevaluate then. You're welcome to stay, but I'd recommend that you all go home and get some sleep. There's going to be a lot of time for you to see him here if he makes it."

Dr. Norman gave them a sympathetic nod and withdrew. Tony looked at Gibbs and knew that he was going to tell them to pack it in for now. He couldn't even say that it was a mistake. They knew now that there was no chance of getting in to Tim for another twelve hours.

"Go home," Gibbs said, right on cue.

The inevitable protest rose up and died.

"We won't get any more information here tonight. Get some sleep. We'll all be back here tomorrow anyway."

Tony smiled wanly.

Abby still was hugging Gibbs as if her life depended on it...as if _Tim's_ life depended on it.

"Okay. My bed is more comfortable than these chairs, at least," Tony said, forcing a wider smile.

He started to leave, knowing that the others would start to follow. Ziva caught up to him quickly.

"It is not fair," she said after a few silent steps beside him.

"No. It's not."

"Tim has done everything right, everything he needed to do to break his addiction. To be facing death due to a forced overdose is _wrong_, Tony!"

Tony took his life in his hands and put an arm around Ziva. To his surprise, she just let out a sad chuckle and leaned against him for a moment.

"I hate this, Tony. To be able to do _nothing_ but stand and watch as he faded. To be forced to watch the man who would have killed him walk around without worry, without a care...it is _wrong_."

"Yeah, it is...but we can't do anything about it. ...and you're not going to go and give Bowers what he deserves." He was only half joking.

"I hate him," Ziva said angrily. "I would have killed him if I had been forced to stay in his presence."

"Probably why Gibbs had me do it."

"Yes."

"Hey, you know what?"

"What?" Ziva asked.

"I don't care what that doctor said. Tim is going to beat all the odds and he's going to be okay. He's not going to die, and when he wakes up, he's going to be the same freakishly-smart nerd we all know and love."

Ziva laughed and then wiped a hand across her cheek. Tony just rubbed her shoulder and then let her go.

"I will hold you to that, Tony," Ziva said as they headed to their own cars.

"I'm going to be right," Tony said. "The doc doesn't know McGee. We do. Tim's too weird to follow normal trends."

"If you wish to talk, I am sure that I will be awake tonight," Ziva said and walked away.

"Yeah, me, too," Tony said softly.

He headed home to sit on his couch and watch TV. ...his one tried and true escape from the world...or at least the one that wouldn't result in a hangover.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Over the next three days, things went both uphill and downhill...quite quickly. Tim crashed during the first twelve hours, and Dr. Norman wasn't sure they'd be able pull him out of it. However, Tim made it.

But that meant that his condition was considered too critical to have visitors. For another twelve hours, everyone was kept from seeing him. Even when his family showed up, they had a private meeting with Dr. Norman but the end result was that they had to wait for Tim's condition to stabilize.

Finally, more than a day after Tim's overdose, he stabilized, although he didn't wake up. What it meant was that the ICU was opened to visitors. His family went first, of course, but then, another day passed and his friends came to see him...and it was hard to see him.

Tim was still and quiet, hooked up to more machines than seemed to be possible for one person to have. Ventilator, EKG, EEG, IVs. Tim was almost buried beneath all the equipment keeping him alive.

Tony wanted to keep up his confident demeanor, but it was hard when face to face with a comatose Tim. He couldn't pretend that this wasn't serious. The one thing, though, was that the longer he stayed alive, the more likely it was that he'd survive because the drugs would pass through his system, giving him a chance to recover.

They all hoped.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Five days later..._

Eyes opened.

Eyes closed.

"Timothy?"

Eyes opened. The brain slowly kicked into a low gear. Took in a room.

Eyes closed. Felt a hand.

"Timothy, can you hear me?"

Eyes opened. Saw a figure. Almost recognized him.

Eyes closed. The hand holding his.

He noticed that he was breathing...not because he was doing it himself but because something else was breathing for him.

"Timothy."

Eyes opened and looked again. He tried to speak but couldn't.

Eyes closed. Another hand on his forehead.

"You can't speak right now, Timothy. If you can understand me, squeeze my hand."

There was a hand holding his. That must be what was meant. He thought about moving his hand.

"Good, Timothy."

He'd done what was asked of him. He wasn't sure he knew why that was important.

"Timothy, do you remember what happened?"

Eyes opened. He managed to keep them open. ...but he didn't know what was meant. Maybe he hadn't always been like this? ...whatever _this_ was. He didn't know. Did he know who was speaking? Maybe.

Eyes closed.

"It's all right, Timothy. Don't worry. All will become clear later."

What was going on? He really didn't know. He just knew that something was breathing for him, and that he was confused. But he had a hard time thinking about it...or even thinking that he _needed_ to think about it.

"Are you tired?"

Almost as if that was a cue for him, he felt himself fade away.

...but before he fell asleep, he realized something.

_Ducky._


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

_Two days later..._

He woke up again, still with something breathing for him. This time, there was someone leaning over him, someone he was pretty sure he didn't know.

What was this now? He vaguely remembered waking up before, but this person was not familiar.

"Agent McGee, I'm Dr. Norman. We're ready to extubate...to take you off the ventilator. Now, after I remove the tube, we'll be putting you on supplemental oxygen while your lungs get reacquainted with functioning on their own again. This will be uncomfortable for you, but we're going to be keeping a close eye on everything to make sure it's working correctly. Are you ready?"

Ventilator. Something that breathes for you. Right. That was the sensation. He was glad to know what it was.

Belatedly, he realized there was a question that he'd been asked.

Ready? For what again? Right, no more thing breathing for him. He nodded. What other answer could there be? He supposed that most people breathed without a thing breathing for them.

"Okay, Agent McGee. Just relax."

He didn't feel like he _could_ tense up. He was just floating along and not worrying about anything. There was a vague sense of curiosity about what was going on, but beyond that...

"Breathe deeply and slowly for me."

He did so. That seemed easy enough.

"Now, I want you to breathe in and then cough."

He did as directed...and felt a very uncomfortable sensation as a long tube was pulled out of his throat. That must be the ventilator, he decided. Then, there was something else covering his face.

"Very good, Agent McGee. Breathe normally. How's he doing?"

"Heart rate is steady, gas exchange looks good. He's managing."

"Okay. Stay here and watch him for the next hour. If he continues on this way, he's making good progress."

He lay there, listening to the words, wondering if they were talking about him. It was possible, but he was content to lie where he was without worrying about it. He didn't understand a thing that was going on, except that he was mostly breathing for himself now. He didn't know why that had been impossible before or why it was okay now. He didn't know these people who were talking over top of him. He didn't know where he was, and he didn't know if he should be doing anything right now. He just lay there in a pleasant fog as he breathed in the warm moist air.

"Agent McGee, you have some visitors outside."

He just nodded. Sure, why not?

"All right. I'll be right back."

He nodded again. He was happy enough for visitors, he supposed, although at the moment, he couldn't summon up any faces or identities. He didn't expend any effort doing so. There was a part of him that said how he felt right now was a lot better than how he would feel if he tried to understand things. So he wasn't bothering. Letting these people dictate what he did and how he did it was fine with him.

"You're doing great, Agent McGee. You don't have to do anything but keep breathing normally."

Another nod. Sure. Okay. Whatever.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Gibbs and Ducky happened to be the ones waiting for visiting hours to begin. They both stood up expectantly when Dr. Norman came out. Everyone knew that today was the day they were going to take Tim off the ventilator and let him breathe on his own. There had been tests over the last few days and Tim had done well.

"Dr. Norman, is he all right?" Ducky asked.

"We've extubated and Agent McGee seems to be doing quite well on his own. I wanted to talk to you before you went back to see him, though."

"What?" Gibbs asked impatiently.

"He seems to be mostly unaware of where he is, what happened to him and his reactions are very limited. While this might be disconcerting to all of you who've been worrying about him for all this time, it's good for him because he's not straining himself in any way. We're still keeping an eye on his breathing and his heart rate. Now, it's possible that, once he sees you, he'll start to remember, and if so, explain things to him so that he doesn't panic and risk his health, but if he doesn't remember, let him recover as he is. There's no reason to tell him that he came so close to dying, that we've been worried, that he was nearly killed. They're all true and things he'll need to connect with again later, but not now when he's just coming out of his coma and is starting to recover. All right?"

"Yes. That's very clear and we agree," Ducky said.

"All right, then you can go on back. He's on supplemental oxygen right now as he adjusts and there's a nurse with him."

"Thank you."

As they walked down the hall, Gibbs felt a little worried. It was great that Tim was finally waking up, but not remembering anything about what had happened? How extensive would his amnesia be?

"We will have to do as he says," Ducky said.

"I know."

"He stands a good chance of recovering now that he's regained consciousness."

"You trying to convince me or yourself?"

Ducky smiled. "Perhaps both of us. I know that everyone has worried, including myself. But Dr. Norman has not been nearly so pessimistic these last two days."

"Right."

They reached the ICU and headed to Tim's bed. The nurse was sitting beside him, talking to him softly. Tim's eyes were open, but as Dr. Norman had said, they didn't seem to be taking in much. ...but he was obviously listening to the nurse and smiling vaguely. That was an improvement...of sorts.

"Good afternoon, Timothy," Ducky said with a heartiness that couldn't quite be genuine.

Tim looked at him and, for a moment, there was no sign of recognition, but then, he smiled.

"Ducky," he whispered through the oxygen mask. "...saw you before?"

Ducky's smile was relieved. "Yes, lad. A couple of days ago when you awakened for the first time."

Tim blinked slowly and nodded.

Gibbs came into view and Tim looked at him for a few seconds.

"Boss..."

"That's right," Gibbs said, feeling the same sense of relief that Ducky seemed to be feeling.

The vague expression vanished from Tim's face and he seemed to be trying to think...which was also a relief, but they weren't sure where Tim's thoughts would take him.

"Where am I?" he asked. He was still mumbling a bit, and he definitely wasn't all there, but he was questioning. That was both good and bad. Good because he could think clearly enough to ask, and bad because he obviously didn't remember anything.

"You're in a hospital, McGee," Gibbs said.

"Why?"

"You were hurt, Agent McGee," the nurse said, jumping in quickly. "You've been recovering."

Tim's brow furrowed in confusion. He looked at himself and saw no obvious sign of injury.

"How...long?"

"Just over a week, Timothy," Ducky said.

Tim breathed in and out a few times.

"Why?"

"You were injured," Ducky said.

Tim shook his head very slowly.

"How?" he asked...and the furrow deepened. "Drugs...something...about...drugs. I took drugs?"

"No, Timothy," Ducky said firmly. "You didn't _take_ them. You were _given_ them."

A few more breaths. Tim didn't seem panicked, but his heart rate was a bit higher. The pieces were just that for him right now. Pieces. He didn't have a coherent whole at the moment...but it was clear that he was now trying because he'd been faced with people he knew and recognized. Dr. Norman's injunction would have to be ignored.

"You were undercover, McGee. Remember?"

"Drugs," Tim said. That was all.

"We were investigating the murder of a Marine. Do you remember? Eric Fogel?"

Gibbs wasn't sure how much of this was getting in. Tim was just breathing and looking at him as if he wasn't sure what he was saying.

"I took...drugs..."

"No, Timothy," Ducky said again. "You did not. You were forced. It was not a choice you made."

Gibbs sat down on the edge of Tim's bed and drew his attention.

"Tim, are you listening to me?"

Tim nodded very slowly.

"Good. Do you remember that you were undercover at Sunrise Rehab?"

Tim expression was one of effort at trying to grasp a difficult problem...or just reach out and touch a distant memory.

"A man was murdered, a patient there, and you went in and _pretended_ to be a recovering addict in order to find out who killed him. Do you remember that?"

Tim was still taking the slow deep breaths, but he looked disturbed, perhaps at realizing he remembered so little.

"Think back, Timothy. What is the last thing you remember?"

"I...remember...drugs...a needle..."

Gibbs was worried because he didn't know if this meant that Tim was just remembering being attacked by Dr. Bowers or if he truly had no memory of the two years he'd been clean.

"Tim, you were undercover and you were attacked. You aren't on drugs."

Tim seemed unconvinced...or maybe just confused. Ducky looked at Gibbs worriedly...and then, Gibbs had an idea that might jog Tim's memory, considering how strong an emotion it had seemed to evoke in him.

"Tim, do you remember Kate?"

That got a reaction. Tim blinked at him and nodded.

"Do you remember the other Kate?"

"She...was..." He took a deep breath and his heart rate increased dramatically.

"It's all right, Timothy," Ducky said instantly. "It's all right."

"She's fine," Gibbs said. "She didn't get hurt. She's alive and she's okay."

"He...and...and..."

Gibbs turned Tim's face toward him. Tim's eyes were full of fear and worry.

"Are you listening to me, Tim?"

Another nod.

"Kate is fine. Dr. Bowers did attack her but he didn't get a chance to hurt her. We got there in time, and she's okay. She knows that you're a federal agent and she was worried about you, but she is fine. Understand? ...Tim, do you understand me?"

Finally, a slow nod and Tim's heart rate slowed down again. He didn't take his eyes away from Gibbs.

"Dr. Bowers is under arrest. Kate is fine, and you're getting better. You have nothing to worry about, Tim. Understand?"

Another nod.

"Timothy, would you like someone to stay here until your family arrives?"

One more nod.

"All right."

Gibbs looked at Ducky who smiled and nodded.

"I'll be back to see you later, Timothy. I'm relieved that you're all right."

Tim barely reacted to Ducky's words. He was looking at Gibbs. Gibbs looked at the nurse.

"Could we have a few minutes, please?"

The nurse nodded. "Keep the mask over his face. He needs it and if his breathing becomes labored, you call me over. I'll give you five minutes."

"That's fine. Thank you."

The nurse withdrew out of hearing.

"You told Kate to remind me of what you said in the hospital after you had your appendix removed. Remember?"

Tim nodded.

"I almost forgot it. I almost didn't know what you'd meant. ...but I realized it, that you had said you'd rather die than be an addict again."

Tim nodded.

"You remember?"

"Yes..."

"Good. You're not an addict, Tim. Don't forget that. No matter what else you have to be reminded of, do _not_ let yourself forget that you're not an addict. What happened to you does not make you an addict. Got it?"

"I...took drugs."

"You were _forced_ to take drugs. You didn't make the choice. Never let anyone tell you any different."

"...said it was...my fault."

"Who? Bowers?"

"I don't...know..."

"If so, forget it. Bowers doesn't know anything about you and all he wanted was to get you out of the way because you'd figured out he was the bad guy. Actually, it doesn't matter _who_ said that to you. They're wrong."

Tim finally made a genuine movement, his eyes reflecting his continued uncertainty and his fear. He reached out and grabbed Gibbs' arm. It was a weak grip, one that Gibbs could easily break.

"I don't...want...to be an addict."

"You're not. You got off it two years ago, Tim, and you're not an addict anymore. Got it?"

There was no lessening of Tim's fear.

"Tim, I trusted you when you gave me that warning. I _know_ you're not. You are free of that addiction. Understand?"

Tim nodded.

"Don't forget it. That's an order."

A ghost of a smile flitted across Tim's lips and then, he lay back, tired out by his first real interaction with the outside world since his near death.

"Just rest. As you get better, you'll see that I'm right."

Another small smile, but his eyes closed.

"I'll be right here until your family comes."

Tim weakly squeezed Gibbs' arm in thanks, and nothing more was said. The nurse came back and was satisfied that Tim was doing all right.

Gibbs just hoped that Tim's mind could hold on to what they had already discussed. He didn't need to go through thinking he was an addict again.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

Over the next week, Tim began to recover his mental acuity. The doctors were still worried enough that they were keeping him in the hospital and under surveillance. They moved him out of the ICU and into a regular ward, but he had a heart monitor and they kept an oxygen mask nearby. He was starting to eat regular food and he was looking less brittle. ...but he was withdrawn, even taking his need for recovery into account.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Dark shapes around him. Hands reaching out of the dark and tying him down. A distant drip, drip, drip. It wasn't water. It was coming from a syringe. One drop at a time. Never-ending. Coming up to destroy him again._

"McGee, wake up. It's okay."

_Another hand on his arm. He couldn't escape...and always that drip. No escaping it._

"McGee!"

Tim opened his eyes and looked around wildly for the arms and was surprised when he was able to sit up without restraint. He only gradually took in the outside stimulus.

"Hey, Probie...you all right?"

The name finally penetrated. Only one person called him that. He dropped his head to hide the tears that had involuntarily come to his eyes.

"Hi, Tony," he whispered.

"Hey. ...nightmare, Tim?"

Tim nodded.

"Want to tell me what?"

"Being...held down and forced to take drugs."

Tim felt the bed shift as Tony sat down beside him.

"Hey...McGee..."

"I was...in that room...I was...I couldn't... I almost died."

"But you _didn't _die, McGee. You're going to be okay...and you're not addicted to drugs. Come on, you've got to know that!"

"I think I do...but...it's hard to be sure...especially after that."

"You still don't remember?" Tony asked.

"Not a lot of it. I don't remember any of that day except...just a few bits...mostly about Kate." Tim raised his eyes. "Have you found her family?"

"We're working on it. We haven't given up yet. She may have changed her name."

Tim nodded and dropped his eyes back to his lap.

"I hadn't thought of that."

"It's okay. Abby will work her magic, and with Gibbs helping out, too...how can we lose?"

"I'm scared, Tony," Tim whispered.

"Scared of what, Tim?"

"That...that I'm going to find out that...that I'm...addicted again."

"You're _not_, Tim!" Tony said. "...no more than you would have been if you hadn't freaked out about getting your appendix out because of the drugs they use in surgery."

Tim looked up at him again. "How did you know about that?"

"Gibbs told me...a couple of days ago."

"Why?"

"Maybe he thought I'd be able to help because I'm the one who gave you the most grief when you started getting off temazepam before. If I say that you're not, then maybe you'll believe me. ...and you're not an addict, Tim. You're _not_. If you don't remember all the great stuff you did, how amazing it is that you survived all this...then, trust me. You know me well enough to know that I won't pretend that it's okay if it's not."

"Yeah...I have...fond memories of that," Tim said and tried to smile.

"I'm sure you do. Tim, I don't blame you for worrying about it, but...but don't if you can avoid it. Don't worry about it because you're too smart for that."

"I'm not."

Tony laughed. "Yeah, you are. You're still a bit messed up from what happened, but you're plenty smart...and you've got to know that you're okay."

"I still have a lot of...holes in what I can remember, Tony. I remember most of what led up to that day...but there are...things that I just can't quite get straight."

"I can't fill the ones at the rehab place. We weren't there."

"I know. I can drag some of them up, but...Dr. Norman says that the overdose scrambled my brain a bit. I might be able to get some of it back, but I don't know how much."

"Do you remember Dr. Bowers?"

Tim closed his eyes and nodded, unable to suppress a shudder. One of the few things that had survived from that day was Dr. Bowers attacking him. Strong emotions tended to be preserved...and he remembered his horror and fear at being held captive by Dr. Bowers and that moment when he injected him with drugs again.

The hand on his shoulder surprised him. He looked at Tony and saw a sympathetic expression on his face.

"Tim, you're not alone in this. Let us in and let us help. We don't have to help you get off drugs this time, but that's better. A lot better, and we're here for you, just like before."

"You're not going to yell at me this time?" Tim asked, forcing a smile.

"No. Not this time."

"Good."

Tim looked up and the ceiling for a few seconds. "I'm still scared, Tony." The tears welled up, although Tim was able to keep them from falling.

"That's okay. I don't think you should be, but I'll accept that I don't know how it feels to be in your position."

"No, you don't...but that's okay, too. I'm glad you don't know how it feels because it stinks."

"I'm sure it does."

Tim took a breath and tried to get rid of the tears.

"What's going to happen to Dr. Bowers?"

"We're going to throw the book at him...as hard as we can. If we can swing it, Ziva will throw it and then, he'll be dead. Abby'll destroy the book and Gibbs will deny that the book ever even existed...and he'll do it with a straight face."

Tim couldn't help it. The image conjured up by Tony's words made him laugh...but the laughter died away.

"He was going to kill me."

"I know. Why do you think we hate him so much? Tim, we thought you were going to die. We thought that for _days_. It wasn't just a brief moment. Even your doctor wasn't sure if you'd pull out of it. They found out that you'd been given an overdose of temazepam twice, and they hadn't realized it before. It didn't really change things, but still...when your family came, Dr. Norman tried to make sure they knew just how slim your chances were. We were just waiting...and then, when you didn't die but you didn't wake up either...they weren't sure if you would...and if you did, would you be able to think at all...we were stuck waiting for what seemed like an eternity."

Tim hadn't ever heard all this before. He didn't know how close he'd been to death's door...or how long he'd stayed there.

"Really?"

"Yeah." Then, a chagrined expression crossed Tony's face. "Oh...man...was I not supposed to tell you all that?"

Tim smiled a little. "I don't know. No one else has said that to me, but it's okay, Tony. I don't mind knowing. I would have had to sooner or later. What about Dr. Ryan? Was she okay?"

"Yeah, she was there when we were trying to keep you alive."

"She was? So he didn't hurt her?"

"No. He locked her in her own trunk. It could have been bad if she'd been stuck there, but she got out before we got there."

"And...Kate?"

"She's okay last I saw her. I haven't since she gave her statement, though."

"I remember seeing her trying to get away from him."

"Why her, Tim?" Tony asked.

"Because of her name, at first. I think I just wanted to find _something_ from my life in there. A person named Kate was enough...but then..." Tim leaned back and stared at the ceiling. "Then, I saw someone who needed a reason. I always had a reason. I didn't feel good enough for it, but I always had a _reason_ to try. She's doing it, but she doesn't know why...and if she can't find a reason, she won't make it. It'll be too hard on the outside to keep it up. I'm not saying that I'm enough. I'm sure I'm not, but...but if she has a family out there who will accept how much she's changed...she could make it."

"I think you're selling yourself short, McGee."

"I'm a stranger, Tony."

"A stranger who said you were interested in her as a person."

"Yeah. But I wanted to find her family. I wanted to have someone who could say that the mistakes she made when she was young weren't permanent. I've only known her for a month...less than that. I wanted someone who knew her when she was younger who could say that it's okay that she screwed up. It's okay that she didn't make the right choices. It matters that she's making the right choices now, and it's a good thing that she's doing." Tim took a breath. "Like you guys did for me. I don't think I could have done it without that. There wouldn't have been any point to it if I was in it alone."

"Well, you're not...and you're not letting Kate do it either. Got it?"

Tim smiled. "Yeah. I got it."

"Good. Because I can't stand being nice to you anymore."

"I don't know how long I could stand you being nice to me, either."

Tony smiled, and Tim felt another sudden bout of lethargy, a lingering result of the overdose, he figured...and he yawned widely.

"Sorry, Tony."

"Hey, that's all right. I can see when I'm not wanted."

Tim smiled tiredly. "I just want to be well enough to get out of here, to be able to be me again."

"You will be. In fact, I'll let you sleep so that you can get out of here sooner."

Tony stood up.

"Tony?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks...for coming."

"Anytime, McGee."

Tim settled back and closed his eyes, hoping for better dreams this time.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"I found her, Boss!" Tony said triumphantly.

Ziva and Abby ran over to Tony's desk. They'd all decided to come in on Sunday in order to track down Kate's family.

Gibbs didn't join them at the computer, but he raised his eyebrows, waiting for Tony to continue.

"Jolyn Kathryn Coffman."

"Okay, I got the Kate from that," Abby said. "The Morrison?"

"She was actually married according to this record...to a Paul Morrison...for about a year."

"Divorce?"

"Separation...after he was arrested for possession."

"Where is he now?" Gibbs asked

"Dead," Tony said. "Drug deal gone bad was the police determination...but that was ten years after he married her. Information puts her at the same address as he was."

"They were not separated by much then," Ziva said.

"Yeah."

Gibbs nodded.

"According to this, she's only 48," Tony said. "That's only a few years older than I am. She looks a lot older than that."

"She's had a hard life," Jimmy said. "There's a reason they've started a campaign showing what drugs can do to your looks. It's the truth."

"Indeed," Ducky agreed. "We can't judge this woman, but her life has changed her. She has been hard on herself physically...and probably mentally as well if her anguish is real. She regrets the choices she made and can't see a way to repair the damage."

"Some of it likely cannot _be_ undone," Ziva pointed out. "Sometimes, choices lead to permanent changes."

"Of course, but that doesn't mean that life is hopeless, Ziva...as I think this woman must be thinking."

"McGee doesn't want that for her," Tony said. "When I was talking to him on Friday, he told me that Kate and Bowers are about the only things he remembers from that day. He really wants to help her. Honestly, Boss...I don't know what he'll do if he finds that he can't."

"Contact information for her family?"

"Yeah. Her mom is dead. Dad is living with a brother. She's got two sisters. They all live pretty close together."

"Give me the phone number for her brother."

"You're going to call, Gibbs?" Abby asked.

"No. McGee is."

Tony got to his feet, looking concerned.

"He needs to know and who could say more about Kate than Tim could? We don't know her, and he does."

"What if they say no?" Ziva asked. "McGee would be heartbroken."

"And if he doesn't try himself, he won't believe it's impossible."

Abby looked like she wanted to protest, but she subsided and nodded reluctantly.

"Tim feels responsible for her."

And that was that, really. If Tim had decided a person was his responsibility, he wouldn't give up that responsibility and he _would_ feel horrible if he couldn't make things better. It didn't matter whether it was true or not. All that matter is that Tim would _feel_ it was.

"Tony?" Gibbs asked and held out his hand.

Tony nodded, wrote down the number and handed it over.

"Long distance. They're in central New York."

"I'll pay for it," Gibbs said and smiled a little.

Tony grinned and nodded. By unspoken consent, no one suggested that they go with Gibbs. Tim didn't need an audience for this. They could be there later and commiserate...if commiseration was needed.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

Physically, Tim was feeling better with each passing day, and he was ready to leave the hospital and get back to his life. After his nap after talking to Tony, he had made a call...and then had to wait. He talked to his parents when they visited him on Sunday, and they were happy with his recovery although he knew they were still worried about him...which was why they hadn't returned to Ohio just yet. ...but they were gone and he was alone, just waiting.

Later in the afternoon, there was a knock on the door.

"Come in, Dr. Washington," Tim said softly.

The door opened and Dr. Washington came in.

"You aren't expecting anyone else?"

"Nope," Tim said with a slight smile. "Maybe some of my friends later on. No one right now...except you."

"So...long time, no see."

"Yeah...work."

"From what you told me yesterday, it's been pretty hard on you."

"Yeah. I was in a coma for a few days. I'm still not remembering everything, but it's more than that."

"It's that you were given a drug overdose and the possible implications of that scare you."

"Yeah."

"I'm assuming that you're already aware of the fact that you're in no real danger of becoming addicted again from a single dose even though you received an overdose?"

"Yeah."

Dr. Washington laughed. "Well, I'm impressed that you called me rather than waited until someone else did it for you."

Tim smiled. "I was doing a lot better before...but...but this..."

"Tim, I'd like to make a suggestion to you. You can tell me if I'm way off base, okay?"

"Okay."

"Have you thought about the possibility that one of the reasons you're so focused on something that is, quite frankly, impossible is because you're afraid to think about what actually happened to you?"

Tim looked down at his lap and didn't answer.

"You were attacked by someone you had let yourself trust to some degree. Even while you were investigating, you still wanted to trust him. And this person you trusted wanted to kill you. Do you think I'm wrong?"

"I don't know."

"You don't have to _know_, but what do you _think_?"

"He said it was my fault," Tim whispered.

"And again, you know that's not true."

"Yeah," Tim said and swallowed hard. "I know."

"Tim?"

"Yeah?"

"Good for you."

Tim looked up in surprise. "For what?"

"For knowing that you needed some help and for being able to admit that you're not being rational. ...and you don't _have_ to be rational about being nearly killed. It's okay to be _really_ upset about it and to need help getting through it. ...and I'm happy to help to whatever degree you need it."

"Thanks."

"So...why don't you walk me through what happened and what you find the hardest to...to face?"

"Okay."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim ended up talking with Dr. Washington for nearly an hour, but by the time the session was finished, he felt...not perfect, but a bit more settled, less anxious...less afraid of what had happened to him, what had been _done_ to him. It was amazing how much just talking to someone trained to help had...actually _helped_.

Dr. Washington was just standing to leave when the door opened (without a knock), admitting Gibbs. He paused and even looked a little surprised to see someone else in the room.

"Boss!" Tim said, surprised himself. "What are you doing here?"

Gibbs smiled. "What do you think, McGee?"

Tim looked sideways at Dr. Washington who smiled at Tim's uncertainty and stepped forward.

"Hello, Agent Gibbs. I'm Dr. Washington. I'm a psychiatrist."

"The one he was seeing before?"

"Yes."

"Nice to meet you."

Tim heard more than that in Gibbs' words. He approved.

"Tim and I were just finishing up here." He turned back. "Tim, when you know the time you'll be leaving the hospital, let me know and we can make arrangements, okay?"

"Okay. Thanks, Dr. Washington."

"My pleasure," he said and then looked at Gibbs once more. "Nice to meet you."

Gibbs just nodded and watched him leave. After he was gone, Gibbs looked at Tim.

"You called him?"

Tim nodded. "Yesterday."

"Why?"

"Because I needed the help. Talking with Tony...I started to realize that...that this wasn't just going to go away, no matter how much I wanted it to. I almost died of a drug overdose, Boss. It was like my worst nightmare coming true. I was _forced_ to take drugs again. I was helpless. I couldn't fight. I couldn't even resist after the first...and even if I can't remember a lot of what happened, I remember the feeling. It's something I never want to feel again...and Dr. Washington had the time and he was willing to come and talk with me again."

"Sounds logical to me."

Tim furrowed his brow. "Boss...was there something else? Not that I'm going to say that you shouldn't come and visit but..."

"I do have a reason."

"Okay. What is it?"

"We found Kate's family. Her real name is Jolyn Kathryn Coffman."

Tim felt a moment of happiness, followed by worry.

"Really? What did they say?"

"Haven't talked to them."

"Why not?"

Gibbs held out a phone and a piece of paper.

"Because you are."

"But...I can't...I don't..."

Gibbs sat down. "You're the one who knows Kate. The only one of us who really does. Who do you think should tell them about her?"

"I won't...I won't know what to say."

"You know what to say. This was _your_ idea."

"I won't be able to say it," Tim said, desperately. "I'm no good at this kind of thing! I'm not!"

"You are the only one who can do this, Tim. You'll do it right. You'll know what to say."

He held them out again. Tim reached out and took them. He swallowed.

"You want me to stay or do you want to be alone?"

"I...I guess you can stay." Tim let out a whoosh of air. "Then, when I screw up, you might be able to fix it."

_Thwack!_

"Stop putting yourself down, Tim. Doesn't help anyone...especially not you."

"Okay."

Tim looked at the phone number and carefully dialed it. It rang three times. Then, there was a connection, although not what he had expected.

"_Don't you people have any life at all? Can't you take one day off of this?"_

"Uh...excuse me?"

There was a brief pause.

"_Who is this?"_

"My name is Tim McGee."

"_You're not selling anything or conducting a survey?"_

"Uh...no. I'm not."

"_Oh..." _Another pause. _"I'm really sorry. We've had probably twenty telemarketers calling us in the last couple of days. Your number came up blocked. That's usually a telemarketer. What can I do for you?"_

"Are you William Coffman?"

"_Yes. What do you want?"_ There was a wary tone. Tim supposed that he couldn't blame this man for being so uncertain.

"You have a sister named Jolyn Kathryn Coffman?"

"_Yes. Is she dead?"_

"No. She's not. She's very much alive."

"_Okay. What did she do?"_

"Um...she's in a rehab center, trying to get off drugs."

"_Really?"_ Skepticism. It must have been bad when she left.

"Yes. I'm a federal agent. I met her during...a case."

"_What did she do?"_

"Nothing. She wasn't part of it. The place I was investigating was her rehab center. I met her there."

"_She told you about us? That's a surprise. It's been nearly 30 years."_

"No. She doesn't know that I'm calling."

"_Why are you calling me?"_

"Because..." Tim took a deep breath. He didn't make a habit of telling people about his history. This wasn't a normal situation, though. "...because I was addicted to drugs and got clean a couple of years ago. I needed people there to get me through it. I had a lot of friends and my family who kept me from giving up and without that...there's no way I would have made it. There were a lot of setbacks." Tim glanced at Gibbs. "And I would have given up."

There was only silence on the other end of the line; so Tim pressed on.

"The reason I'm calling is because Kate doesn't have that."

"_Kate?"_

"That's the name she told me."

"_She always did hate the name Jolyn."_ That was all.

"From what I can tell, she has no friends anymore...and she's long since decided there's no chance of having family. I don't know anything about her life, about the choices she made back then. I only know that she regrets them now. I'm not calling to try and force you to talk to her."

"_What _are_ you doing, then?"_

Tim couldn't tell if William was feeling open to what he was saying or not. He just kept on.

"I'm trying to open up the possibility. Kate would never ask you. She's decided she doesn't deserve anything at all, let alone another chance with the family she rejected. You haven't seen her this way."

"_And you think that she would actually want to see us?"_

"I guess it depends," Tim said. "Would you be seeing her to berate her for past decisions or to say good riddance? If so...then, no. I don't think she'd want that. If it's to try and make new ties...yes, I really think she would. Bottom line: I really don't think Kate will survive if she doesn't have someone pulling for her...someone besides me. I'm nearly a stranger to her."

There was a long pause.

"_What is she like now?"_

"I don't know what she was like before, but I'd be willing to be that she's very different. She's uncertain, kind of depressed...and her life has...has changed her, how she looks, how she feels. You probably wouldn't recognize her."

Tim looked at Gibbs and shrugged uncertainly.

"I don't want to push you into making a decision. I can give you all the information about where she is and let you decide. Or I can give you my number and you can call me when you've decided." And then Tim realized that this wouldn't work with where he was currently residing. "...um...I'm not..."

"Tell them the truth, McGee," Gibbs said.

Tim smiled awkwardly. "I'm actually calling you from the hospital; so I'm not around right now, but you can call my boss and he'll get any message to me."

"_What happened?"_

"Part of the case I was investigating. Wrong place at the wrong time."

"_Okay. You're right. I can't make a decision right now. Jolyn...uh...Kate left us saying that she never wanted to see us again, saying that she'd rather die than have to grovel at our feet. She's never come back, never contacted us. When Mom died a couple of years ago, we didn't even know if Kate was alive, let alone knowing where to find her. We did give up on her, but she made that the only option."_

"I'm not trying to tell you what you have to do, or even what you _should_ do. I'm just giving you the choice."

"_Give me both. Let me have where she is and how to contact you if I want to know more."_

"Of course." Tim gave all the information to William. "Thanks for...for listening, no matter _what_ you choose to do."

"_Thanks for calling."_

Very noncommittal. Tim said good-bye and hung up. He handed the phone back to Gibbs.

"And?"

"And he needs time to think about it...probably to talk about it with his family, too. I don't blame him."

"But?"

"But I hope he does take the chance because I wasn't lying, Boss. If Kate doesn't have someone...she really won't make it. She told me once that she sometimes wondered why she was bothering, why she didn't just keep taking drugs until she died. She needs her family. Someone like me isn't going to be enough."

"You've done what you can, McGee. Leave it to them to decide. That's all you can do."

Tim nodded. "Yeah. I know. I know."

Gibbs squeezed Tim's shoulder.

"Don't forget that you have to worry about yourself, too."

"I think I'll be released soon, couple more days. I'm going to keep meeting with Dr. Washington. I think it'll help...and I'll be glad to get back to work."

"Don't rush."

"I know. I've learned how dangerous it can be to rush."

"You did a great job, Tim. Don't forget that."

Tim smiled. "I'm trying not to."

"Good. For now, you want more visitors?"

Tim took a breath. More talking? No.

"No. Not today. I've...done all the talking I can today."

"All right. I'll tell everyone to give you a break."

"Thanks, Boss. ...for everything. ...for getting there in time."

"I almost didn't."

"But you did, and I'll be..."

"Don't even say it, McGee."

Tim laughed. "Okay, but it's there...even if I don't say it."

Gibbs smiled. "Sleep, Tim. Don't think too much."

"I'll work on that."

Gibbs left and Tim lay back. He tried to stop thinking...but he thought about Kate again and he couldn't help hoping that her family could forgive the past and give her a future...because he'd been given a second chance. He wanted everyone to get one.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

_Three days later..._

Tim had been released the day after speaking with Kate's family. He spent a day at home, going stir crazy, and then, begged Gibbs to let him come back to NCIS, even if it just meant that he'd be sitting around doing very little. It would get him out of his apartment, a place that felt too quiet and empty for him at the moment.

When he came back, he was, indeed, mostly sitting around. He made his official report of what he had done while undercover, but they were trying to ease him back into his job again. Having been undercover for three weeks with no real escape and having the undercover period end with his near death, no one wanted to risk pushing him too far. Since he'd already taken the initiative in talking with Dr. Washington, Gibbs' only real instruction was that Tim make sure that he take the time to work through all of that in his sessions.

As it was, Tim was now sitting at his desk, thinking about the report he was trying to finish. He knew there were some blank spots that he couldn't fill, but still he did his best. As he neared the end of his time at Sunrise Rehab, he suddenly thought about the fact that he didn't actually know what had happened to Dr. Bowers. He didn't know if he was being held here or elsewhere. Funny that he hadn't considered just _where_ his would-be killer was at this moment.

Suddenly, without warning, he felt a tightening in his chest. He closed his eyes and tried to breathe normally, but he was terrified. He couldn't even pinpoint why. He grabbed hold of the arms of his chair, trying to calm down, trying to center himself, but he couldn't understand what he was feeling and that only made things worse.

After an unknown time, Tim felt a hand on his arm and he actually whimpered.

"Hey, Tim. What's wrong?"

"I don't know," Tim whispered. "I don't know."

"Okay. It's all right. I'm sure it's all right. Just hang tight. I'll get Ducky."

Another eternity passed. The hand on his arm didn't vanish. It was just there. Then, there was another hand...two more hands.

"Timothy, open your eyes."

Tim didn't feel like he could. He just shook his head.

"Timothy, what are you feeling?"

"Afraid..."

"Of what?"

"I don't know!"

"Open your eyes, Timothy. See what is really before you. You are safe. You are not in danger. You are not imprisoned. Open your eyes. You can. You just need to do it."

Tim lifted his lids slightly. He saw Ducky there.

"That's right, Timothy. Good. Can you take a deep breath for me?"

Tim took a breath. He surprised at how better that deep breath made him feel.

"Very good. Let it out and take another deep breath."

Tim did as Ducky said. Again, he felt better. The tightness in his chest lessened and gradually, he felt less afraid.

"Feeling better?"

"Yeah."

"What happened?"

"I don't know." Tim looked around and was relieved that the rest of the team wasn't there. Jimmy was...looking concerned.

"Think about it, Timothy," Ducky said.

"Hi, Jimmy," Tim said softly. "Thanks."

"Sure. No problem, Tim."

"What were you doing, Timothy?"

"Finishing my report."

"About being undercover?"

"Yeah."

Ducky nodded in sympathy.

"What were you thinking about right before this started?"

Tim considered. "Dr. Bowers. I was wondering where he was...where he was being held. What was going to happen...and..." Tim swallowed hard.

"It's all right, Timothy. I would wager that you had a flashback of sorts."

"But I don't remember all that."

"No, you don't, but you _do_ remember parts of it. You were going through what happened and you were trying to be thorough. It put your mind back on how you were attacked and injured. It likely brought your mind into a state where you were feeling the same things that you felt before. It was, perhaps, a mistake to have you do this on your own when you are just now getting back to your life, away from your undercover persona."

"Not much of a persona. It was just me two years ago," Tim mumbled.

"Perhaps not, but still, I think that you need to take more time, Timothy."

"I was going crazy in my apartment. I needed to get out."

"You can get out without putting yourself back to work right away."

"Is it being inside that's the problem?" Jimmy asked.

"No. Not really."

"It's just feeling confined?"

"Maybe. Maybe that's it. I'm not sure," Tim admitted. "I just...needed to be out."

"Timothy, I think you should be done here for the day."

"What do you mean?" Tim asked. "You think I should just leave?"

"Yes, actually. I do. I think you need to give yourself more time to adjust."

"It's been weeks already."

"Most of that time you spent in the hospital, either recovering or in a coma," Ducky said firmly. "That is not time for adjustment. That is time fighting for survival, conscious or not. You need some _time_, Timothy. So, yes, I think you should leave now and take the next few days completely _off_. If being in your apartment makes you feel confined, then leave your apartment. Surely, there are other things you can do."

"I guess so."

"Then, go. Turn your report in and leave."

"You think I can really do that?" Tim asked, taking a deep breath.

"Yes, and I think you should."

"Okay."

Tim printed off his report, left it on Gibbs' desk and then let Ducky urge him out of NCIS.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Jimmy was sitting nonchalantly at Tim's desk when Gibbs, Tony and Ziva returned. They looked at him and then around the bullpen...waiting for the punchline.

"Where's McGee?" Gibbs asked.

"Dr. Mallard sent him home," Jimmy said. "He had a...well, Dr. Mallard called it a flashback while he was working on his report. So he put it on your desk, got the okay from Director Vance and is supposed to be taking a few days off...although I don't if he really will. He didn't seem too happy about it."

"A flashback?" Tony asked.

"Yeah. Back to what Dr. Bowers did to him. Dr. Mallard said that he was trying to come back too soon and he made him go."

"Okay...so what are _you_ doing up here?"

Jimmy smiled. "Dr. Mallard said that I had to stay up here and tell you what happened. I think he's still mad at me for dropping the spleen on the floor."

Ziva's brow furrowed. "Jimmy, I do not think I need to know any more than that."

"Okay. You need to know anything else?"

"Was he all right when he left?" Gibbs asked.

"Yeah. A little...awkward, but he was okay."

"I think we need to take him out tonight," Tony said. "He needs to relax."

"Nothing big," Ziva said quickly. "I think he needs something _quiet_, not partying."

"Definitely. I can be quiet."

Jimmy turned a laugh into an unconvincing cough. Tony glared.

"I think...I'll go back down to Autopsy."

"You do that," Gibbs said.

Jimmy escaped to the elevator.

"Man, I didn't even _think _about McGee having any trouble with his report. We could have been here when he was working on it."

Gibbs perused Tim's report. It looked complete.

"He finished it."

"He probably did not think of the possibility himself," Ziva said. "But I feel bad that he was alone with it. JAG could have waited."

"We'll make it up to him tonight," Tony said. "He won't blame us."

"No, he will not." Ziva sat down and looked at Tim's desk. "Actually...he has seemed...different since going undercover...different in a good way, but I cannot really explain what is different."

"You're right. He _is_ different."

Gibbs nodded.

Tim was different and it was a good different. It was as if, even though he'd almost been killed and it had given him a lot of fear and anxiety, he'd been helped by his time at Sunrise Rehab. How, none of them were sure, but it seemed clear that Tim was improving.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Kate was sitting alone in the library. She'd heard the bell for visiting hours, but she hadn't bothered paying attention. She'd seen Tim reading in the library a lot, and even if she was still uncertain about finding out he was a federal agent, she was fairly certain his reading hadn't been an act. She'd never read much herself. In fact, she was seeing, more and more, that she hadn't done much with her life. It had all been a big waste.

"Kate, you have a visitor."

Kate barely looked up. She hadn't had a single visitor in the months she'd been here...and she'd never expected to have one either.

"Kate!"

She was startled. "A visitor? For me?"

Dr. Ryan was standing in the doorway, smiling. "Yes. For you."

"Who is it?"

"He says he's your brother."

Kate stood up. "My...Will?"

"William Coffman, yes."

"Why?"

"I didn't ask him. Do you not want to see him? It's your choice."

"I...It's been...so long. I don't even really feel like...like I _have_ a family. I _rejected_ them, a long time ago."

"He's here now...and if you'd like, I'll be available to talk with you about all this afterward."

Kate smiled. "You're really different from Dr. Bowers, you know?"

"I'd hope so."

"No...I mean..."

"I understand. Even when he was doing his job, we have a different approach."

"I like it. It's just different."

"Do you want to see your brother?"

"I guess. I don't how I could say no, really."

"Then, go on. And if you want to talk afterwards, let me know."

"Thanks."

Kate got to her feet and walked to the vistor's area. She looked around. It had been a long time since she'd seen her brother...or _any_ of her family. She wasn't sure she would recognize him anymore. She was _positive_ that he wouldn't recognize her. Sometimes, when she looked at herself in the mirror, she didn't recognize her reflection.

There was a man sitting alone. The only one who was alone. That must be Will. She walked over.

"Will?" she asked.

He stood up. "Jo." He looked surprised.

"Haven't heard that in a while."

"Kate Morrison?"

Kate sat down across from him and tried to smile.

"That's my legal name. I changed it when I got married."

"You got married?"

"Yeah."

"Your husband?"

"Dead. Nearly fifteen years now."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"Probably was for the best," Kate said. She shrugged. "We were married for a year. He went to jail for possession. Got legally separated, but...I didn't have anywhere to go. I couldn't go back home. At that point...I was still angry enough that there was no way...and I was still using drugs, Will. You wouldn't have taken me back doing that."

"No, you're probably right."

"As you can probably tell, it's been a long time since I was clean. I'll bet you didn't recognize me."

"It's been almost thirty years, you know."

"I know...but that wouldn't matter so much if I hadn't done all this to myself. Paul died ten years after he got out. He was dealing." Kate sighed. "I never did _that_ at least. I ruined my own life, but at least I never ruined anyone else's life."

"Did you ever try to stop?"

"No. Not until this time. I thought about it sometimes. Just didn't seem to be any point. The friends I had...were my drug-using friends. I worked enough to get the money to get more drugs. Will, it's been a long thirty years for me."

"Why now?"

"I was in prison about three years ago. I got caught again and I was given an option. More prison time or come here. Last chance. I figured it would be nicer here than in prison."

"Three years ago?"

"Yeah." Kate looked at Will again. He looked so different, but she could see the remnants of her older brother in him. "How did you even know I was here? Were you looking for me?"

"No. I have to admit that I wasn't. None of us were. We thought about you sometimes, but we figured you were still as adamant as you were when you left. A few days ago, I got a call from a friend of yours. Tim McGee? An agent?"

"Really? How did he find you?"

"I don't know. He didn't say. You didn't tell him about us?"

"Only that I didn't have a family anymore...because I'd given them up."

"He said that he thought you'd like to see us."

It's...a shock, Will. I almost didn't want to come out here and let you see what I've become. It's...kind of embarrassing that I've fallen so far."

"You do look different than I expected."

"Yeah. I'm sure."

Will looked a little uncomfortable. "Well...after Agent McGee called me, we talked about it. Dad's living with me now."

"Where's Mom?"

"Mom's dead, Jo."

Kate sat back, feeling a sense of shock that confused her even as the news left her feeling stunned.

"Dead? When?"

"About three years ago."

"When I was in prison."

"Yeah."

"How?"

"Pancreatic cancer. It was...really fast. It seemed like only a couple of days from the time it got diagnosed to when it killed her. Even if we'd thought we could find you, it probably would have been too late to tell you."

Kate smiled a little. "And even if you'd found me...it's not like I could have done anything. I was serving time."

"Yeah."

"So...what now, Will?"

"Well, Dad and...and Joan are both here. Suzanne had to stay back to run the salon."

"You still have it?"

"Yeah. Suzanne and I run it. Joan fills in when she's needed."

"And you all really wanted to come?"

Will nodded. "It wasn't an easy decision to make. Old hurts...take time to heal."

"Yeah, they do. Some never heal."

"We decided that it might be overwhelming if we all came at once. So I came first to see what you wanted."

"Wanted?"

"Yeah. Jo, it's been thirty years. The things you did...they were awful, but...you're still family."

"What are you saying?" Kate asked, feeling a strange sensation.

"That you can come back. None of us are kidding ourselves that it'll be easy, but if you want to...you're welcome."

"What would I do, Will? I have no skills. I never did anything after finishing high school...and at that, I probably didn't really learn anything in high school." Kate rolled up her sleeves to show the track marks, the scars that revealed just what she was. "This is all I could ever do well."

She could see the moment of revulsion on Will's face. She had long since become accustomed to their appearance. The newer marks from just before she had come to Sunrise Rehab and the older ones from earlier times. After a few seconds, Will reached out and took her arm in a gentle grip. She tensed slightly. He seemed to be steeling himself to touch them, and she didn't think he would, but after a few more seconds, he ran his fingers over them.

"That's not true, Jo. It never was true. I know you felt that way in high school, but it's not true. You were always so charismatic. You were outgoing, and you were smart. You just didn't have the patience to use those things."

"Well, even if that's true, those things are long since burned away. I'm that's left. No Jolyn, just Kate, a woman who's one step away from destroying herself...and will be that way for the rest of her life. Will, even when..._if_ I can get completely clean in here, I'll feel that desire for the rest of my life. I'm going to have to wake up every morning and decide to say no. Most people don't have that. Most people get up and just think about what's coming up for the day. For me, it's going to be...will I give in and use drugs or not? That's what you're inviting back into your life. Do you really want that? Does _Dad_ really want that? A daughter who has been an addict for longer than he's known her? Do Suzanne and Joan want to have their sister back who looks more like a woman dressed up in a hag costume for Halloween than their sibling?"

Kate suppressed her tears. Will looked so much like a normal person, someone with a family, a happy life. Those things were as unattainable to her now as the stars were. She stood up.

"Will, it was really nice of you to come and invite me back into your lives, but...but I'm not what you want to see. You want someone redeemable. That's not me. I'm just...just a piece of trash left on the side of the road. You don't pick that up and take it home. You leave it where it was thrown."

She turned and ran out of the visiting room. Instead of seeking out Dr. Ryan, she went back into the library and hid in a corner. She had never really understood just how much she'd given up...until now, when she saw her brother. His arms were open and welcoming but he couldn't possibly understand what it was he was trying to welcome.

She didn't deserve anything like that.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

Tim woke up the next morning, feeling much better than he had the day before. Tony, Ziva, Abby and Jimmy had surprised him with an invitation to dinner. He had been hesitant to accept it at first, knowing how those things could get out of control, but Abby had convinced him to come out with them, and Tim had been surprised at how much fun he'd had. After all that time confined to one place, all those days in the hospital, recovering, it was nice to be able to leave when the urge struck him. He hadn't realized just how enclosed he had been in Sunrise Rehab. Overall, it had been a good experience, but he was glad that it was over. Really glad.

Now, faced with a few days away from work, he began to give some thought to something other than getting back to NCIS. He'd met with Dr. Washington and told him about his flashback. They'd also talked about his return to work, and Tim had started to see that his quick return was partly due to a need to get back to his life, to get away from any stigma of being an addict. He had escaped from death and now he needed to _live_ again.

...but as he ate breakfast, he began thinking about other things, letting his mind wander from subject to subject...until he thought about Kate. After knowing that she was okay, he had to admit that she had mostly slipped his mind except when Gibbs had got him to call her family. There were so many other things he had to worry about, and he just hadn't taken the time. Maybe he should visit her today. He didn't know if the Coffmans had decided to accept what he had said or not.

Tim really wanted Kate to make it. He felt that she deserved it.

Decision made, Tim made a plan to go to Sunrise Rehab during their visiting hours to talk to Kate and see how she was doing in person.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim walked into Sunrise Rehab, feeling strange about being back, particularly as a visitor.

"Tim!" Lisa said in surprise. "...or I guess you're Agent McGee."

"You can call me Tim if you want to. That's really my first name."

"So...was it all an act?" Lisa asked, more curious than anything else.

"No. I really was addicted to benzos. Clean for two years and counting."

She smiled. "Congratulations! Are you here officially?"

"No. Just to visit. Kate...if I could."

"I'll call back. You can go into the visiting room. You know where it is, I'm sure."

"Yeah, I do."

Tim walked into the room and sat down, trying not to look as nervous as he felt. A few of the other patients recognized him and said hello. Others waved. Tim waved back, asked a few how they were doing, and kept looking toward the door where Kate would be coming.

When she finally came out, she looked wary. She smiled when she saw him, but it wasn't an open smile. She came and sat down.

"Hi, Kate," Tim said softly.

"Hi."

"I'm sorry I couldn't tell you what I was really doing."

"I understand."

"But you don't like it, do you."

"It feels like you lied."

"I know, and I'm sorry about that, but the things I told you weren't lies."

Kate nodded reluctantly. "You look all right."

"You look upset."

"You called my family."

"Yes, I did."

"Why?" Kate asked. "I would never have tried to go back."

Tim nodded. "I know. That's why I did it."

"Why?"

"Because you need someone who wants you to succeed. You need something to look forward to. You need support...from people you assume won't support you."

"And how do you know that?"

"Because, Kate...everything I told you, with the exception of my last name, was true. It just is something I've already gone through, not something I'm going through now. I thought I'd ruined my life. I thought I had no chance. I thought that if my family knew they would reject me completely. I thought my friends would have no reason to accept me. I thought I had no identity outside of what I had gained while addicted to temazepam, that without the drugs I was nothing. ...and all those things I thought were wrong! Not one of them was true. My family was shocked but they stayed with me. My friends supported me through _every_ moment. Every slip. Every triumph. They helped me see who I was, who I'd always been." Tim laughed a little self-consciously. "I'm sorry for the speech, Kate, but that's why I called your family. You need and deserve what I've had."

Kate shook her head. "I don't deserve another chance. Tim, do you know what I did to my family? I stole from them. I hurt them. I didn't even know that my own mother had died! My brother came and was shocked to see what I've become...but he still made the offer. They don't want _me_ back, Tim! They want the idea. Reality will wear them down. I can't do that to them!"

Tim found that he just wanted to smile at what she was saying...because he'd thought it all before himself.

"No, you're wrong, Kate. You _can_ do that to them and if they're offering, you _should_. It's what they want. You've told them the worst that it could possibly be...and if that hasn't scared them away, nothing will."

"I haven't seen Will since he came."

"Give them a chance, Kate. You have a chance to have your family back. It's late, but it's not _too_ late."

"I don't have anything to offer," Kate said. "I'm nothing but an addict."

Tim took Kate by the shoulders.

"No. You're more than that, Kate. You're their sister. That's who you are and what you have to offer. They don't need anything else right now. If there's more that you don't have, more that you want to give, then you have the time to figure that out. You have time to learn. You have time to get a life that you are proud of. All this stuff that you've done in the past doesn't go away. It can't. It's part of who you are. Even when you're done with rehab and you're out in the world again, it'll still be part of you. You can't forget even if you want to...but that doesn't mean it has to ruin everything. That was the mistake _I_ made. Even when I was done, even when I was clean, I was still terrified of becoming what I had been. It held me back from being happy. It doesn't have to be that way. It doesn't, Kate!"

Kate started to cry.

"I don't want to ruin anyone else's life, Tim. If my life is ruined, that's what I deserve, but I can't do it to anyone else!"

"Your life _isn't_ ruined, Kate...not unless you let it be. It doesn't _have_ to be that way. And I don't want that for you. I don't want anyone to give up without taking their second chance."

"I've messed up all of my chances, Tim."

"No. That's what you think because you're punishing yourself more than anyone else could. No one could make you feel worse than you can make yourself feel. Kate, you need to forgive yourself and look forward. Stop living in that past. Remember it, but as a memory, not as reality."

"Look at me, Tim! I'm..."

"...beautiful, Kate."

She laughed. "No, I'm not, Tim. I can look in a mirror and I have."

"I can see you here, and maybe others wouldn't see it, but I see a beautiful woman, someone whose struggles show in her face, but someone who started fighting back without even knowing why. That makes you beautiful. To me."

"Why did you come here, Tim?"

"To see how you were doing and to explain myself if I needed to. Please, Kate...don't give up the chance you have."

"I already did."

Tim smiled. "I'll bet you didn't. I'll bet your brother is still here. I'll bet he tries again. If they decided to come down, they're not going to give up after one try. You'll see that I'm right."

"He is right, Jolyn. We don't give up that fast."

Tim turned around and saw an older man, maybe in his seventies. He looked slightly uncertain but determined.

"You're Agent McGee?" he asked.

Tim nodded. The man stuck out his hand.

"Charles Coffman. Jolyn's father."

Tim looked at Kate and smiled and then stood up to shake the proffered hand.

"Tim McGee."

"You were an addict, huh?" he asked, a little brusquely.

Tim nodded. "Yes. For half of my life. Started when I was in college. Didn't realize what I was doing until it was too late to just stop. Took me months to get off them."

"And now?"

"Now, I'm two years clean," Tim said, almost daring Charles to question him more. He was doing this for more than himself. He wanted Kate to see him as a person who was no longer ashamed of what he'd been. That's what he wanted for her...even if he didn't really have all that for himself yet.

Charles Coffman nodded and then looked at Kate.

"Jolyn, if you don't want to come back home, you don't have to. William wasn't trying to force anything on you, but we wanted you to know that you _can_."

"Is this what you want, Dad?" Kate asked. "Someone like me in your life?"

Tim could tell that Charles wasn't a man used to being overly demonstrative. He was from the old school when affection was simply understood not expressed. He seemed more than a little awkward, but he walked over to his daughter, pulled her to her feet and looked her right in the eye.

"Not someone _like_ you, Jolyn. We want _you_ in our lives. Your mother...God rest her...she'd be so happy to know that you had survived the life you chose when you left us."

Kate started to cry again, and Charles hugged her tightly. At first, Kate tried to pull away but then, she put her arms around her father and hugged him for the first time in thirty years...maybe longer.

"You've got lots of decisions to make, lots of work to do, I'm sure, but now that we know where you are, you've just got to tell us how much you want to be in our lives again. It's up to you."

Tim smiled and started to back away. It was family time. He could see Kate again later. ...but before he got very far, Charles looked back at him again.

"Can you wait, Agent McGee?" he asked.

"Sure. Kate, I'll see you later, okay?"

Kate couldn't hold back her tears but she nodded.

"I'll just be outside," Tim told Charles.

He walked out of the center and sat on a bench. It only took a few minutes before the door opened, but it wasn't Charles Coffman. It was Dr. Ryan.

"Tim!"

"Hi, Dr. Ryan," he said, getting to his feet.

"You're looking so much better than when I last saw you. They told me you'd recovered, but I still had that image of..." She shook her head. "Anyway, it's nice to see you again."

"Thanks. And thanks for what you did for me. They told me that you were there. I don't remember much of that day."

Dr. Ryan sat down on the bench.

"I told your team what happened, but...but I should tell you, too. It was me, my being careless that led to what happened. I dropped that card you'd written and Dr. Bowers found it. I didn't think he'd read it, but he had. I didn't even think to _mention_ it. If I had, maybe you wouldn't have gone through all this. I didn't read the note myself. I didn't know that you were suspecting him."

Tim sat down beside her.

"It's okay. In a way, it's probably best. We got proof."

"Almost at the expense of your life, Tim."

"I know, but that's not your fault."

"I've been working with Kate since all this went on...but I've been talking with Lorraine about my own problems."

"How _is_ Kate?"

"Unwilling to accept that she has any value. Some of that came from Dr. Bowers, I'm think although she hasn't said so, but some is just the fact that she sees herself as an addict and nothing else. She needs to have hope for more, but not only does she not right now...I don't know if she's willing to let someone else tell her so." Dr. Ryan paused. "You're the one who found her family, aren't you."

"Well, it was my idea. I didn't do the actual searching."

"I think this could be good for her if she'll let it be."

"So do I. It's what I needed."

The door opened again and Charles Coffman came out. Dr. Ryan looked at him and then at Tim. She smiled and stood up.

"I'll let you two talk. I'm really glad that you're okay."

"Right back at you," Tim said, standing up with her. He shook her hand and watched her go inside.

"Agent McGee?"

"Mr. Coffman?"

"Charles."

Tim smiled. "Tim."

"You got some time?"

"Yeah, I'm still off work. Taking a few days to adjust to life again."

"You have time to get something to eat or something like that? I don't know where anything is in this place, but..."

"Sure. That sounds fine to me. There are a few cafes a few blocks away."

Charles nodded. They drove separately and Tim led the way. They settled at a table after ordering and there was a moment of awkward silence.

"So...what did you want to talk about?" Tim asked.

"Jolyn."

Tim smiled. "Funny to hear her called that. She goes by Kate."

"Yeah. She resented being named after her mother. All her friends called her Kate in high school, but she was always Jolyn or Jo at home. Jolyn Kathryn if I was upset."

"It's a nice name."

"Yeah."

"What did you two talk about?"

"Not much," Charles said. "She needs time to think about it. I just want her to be happy. She's not right now, I can tell you that much."

"I know. I want her to be happy, too."

"So...you tracked us down and called us to come and see her."

"Yeah. I'll admit that I first really noticed her because of her name. I had a friend named Kate. She died a few years ago. They were nothing alike, but the name was enough. And as I got to know your daughter, I started to want her to have the chance she didn't think she deserved. So I used the resources I had to find you."

"I see."

"And you're accepting her coming back?"

"Yes. It's not been an easy decision, I have to say. We talked about it a lot, not sure what to expect when we saw her. ...and thirty years is a long time, but having to think about what she might be like also brought back memories. She's nothing like she was in high school. ...but as hard as it was to deal with her back then, this is almost worse. I can't decide which attitude hurts me more to see: my daughter wanting to reject us all as unworthy of her or my daughter wanting to reject us because _she_ is unworthy of _us_."

Tim took a sip of the juice he'd ordered. He missed his coffee, but his doctor had recommended that he get back to regular consumption slowly, just because of the stimulating effects caffeine could have on the heart. Tim's heart had taken a bit of a beating and keeping it at a regular rhythm was something he wanted to keep normal. Someday, he'd be able to have his coffee without worrying about it, but at the moment, he wasn't taking any chances.

"Have you given any thought about what she'd _do_ if she went back with you?"

"Not particularly yet."

"That's something you're going to _need_ to think about. I still had a job and friends and family around me when I was getting clean. I didn't need to worry about that, but from what she's said to me, Kate _does_. She doesn't have any practical skills that I'm aware of. ...and she'll need something to occupy her time when she gets out."

"You're right. We've been cussing and discussing amongst ourselves, but we just don't have any experience with all this. We really don't know what to do for her."

Tim smiled. "The best thing you can do is not give up. ...because if she's anything like me, she'll _want_ to. She'll think she _should_ and you can't let her. She needs a reason to keep going. She can find that in you."

"What we had to offer wasn't enough for her when she was young."

"She's not young anymore. She's an adult and has been for a long time. She's also much more jaded than she was. The life she's lived has changed her...a lot."

"I can see that."

"It's more than how she looks. It's changed who she is. You can't forget that. She's someone you can get to know again...or maybe for the first time."

"You're speaking from a position of experience."

"Yes, I am," Tim said. "Everyone is a little different, but I've felt a lot of what Kate must be feeling now. I didn't even know who I was without the drugs and that was about the hardest thing for me to deal with. Don't give up on her because she'll give up on herself."

"And you think there's a chance for her?"

"Yes. Absolutely. If she's given one."

"Like you were?"

Tim smiled and nodded. "Yes. I was a given a chance I didn't feel I deserved. It's taken me a long time, but I'm finally seeing that it doesn't matter whether or not I deserved it. I still have it. ...and I'm not giving it up. The life I have now is so much better than the life I had when I was dependent on drugs to get me through the day. I want everyone to have that chance. Kate can have it...if people are patient enough with her to let her _see_ that she can have it."

"And it will take time?"

"Yes. A lot of time for her. She's lived a long time feeling worthless. It's not just about giving up drugs. It's also...the people she was with. She stayed with a man she knew wasn't worth her time...because she felt like she didn't have anything else. ...and I'm not blaming you for that. It was the mindset she'd fallen into...and she's not out of it yet."

"Can she? Get out?"

"Yes. I think she can."

Charles looked at him with a direct gaze that was a little disconcerting.

"You're a good man, Tim."

Tim felt touched, more than he expected.

"If anyone deserves a happy ending, I think you do."

"Everyone deserves a happy ending."

"Maybe. Thank you for trying to give someone else what you've got."

Tim felt tears prick his eyes...and he saw, maybe for the first time ever, that he really did have a wonderful life. There had been some dark times, but he didn't have those now.

"Thank _you_...for helping me see what I already knew."

That was all he could say...but all he needed to say...whatever came next he could face.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Two days later..._

Everyone had gathered together for dinner. The MCRT, Abby, Jimmy, Ducky...even Vance. Tim had invited them out, ostensibly as a celebration of the fact that he was coming back to work. In reality, Tim had another reason.

They had a lot of fun. Talking and laughing, cracking jokes. ...eating a _lot_. Finally, Tim stood up.

"Hey...could I say something?" Tim asked.

"Of course, Timothy," Ducky said.

Gibbs stared at everyone until they stopped talking.

"Go ahead, McGee."

"Thanks," Tim said...and then laughed. "That's really what I wanted to say to you all. Thank you."

"What for?" Jimmy asked.

Tim grinned. "For a lot of things, but...mostly for sticking with me...and for helping me have that chance to create a real life, not one based on drugs. I haven't appreciated how much I have now and I really haven't thanked you enough. I couldn't ever, but I haven't been as happy as I could have been. _Thank_ you so much."

Abby jumped up and hugged him tightly, whispering only that she was happy he was happy. Ziva hugged him as well. Tim had come so far from where he'd been, and now, he was finally seeing it.

...and it was wonderful. He never wanted to go back to how he'd been.

Never again.


	21. Epilogue

**Epilogue**

_Five months later..._

Tim leaned back in his chair and smiled. For a few moments, he had time to think. There was a search running and he was alone in the bullpen. He had found, more and more, that he appreciated the opportunity to _think_ by himself rather than be surrounded by people. He was more introspective than he had thought he was. He'd always known himself for a loner, but these golden moments were appreciated, even treasured when they came.

Dr. Bowers had tried for an insanity plea, but he had been denied the chance. The trial was going to begin in a couple of months. Determining which out of all the deaths that had occurred at Sunrise Rehab were murders committed by Dr. Bowers would be difficult, but he was charged with the deaths of He'hea and Eric as well as the attempted murders of Tim and Kate. Time would tell how it would all pan out. For his part, Tim was simply relieved that there was so much evidence beyond what he himself had witnessed.

Kate had left Sunrise Rehab a couple of months ago, and Tim hadn't heard from her since. She had told him that she was going to give living with her family a chance but she wasn't sure how it would go. He made her promise to keep up with her therapy and he told her that if she was ever having trouble, she could call him. Day or night. ...but there had been nothing. He tried not to worry. It would take time for her to adjust to the quieter life of her family in New York.

It had taken _him_ longer to readjust to everything than he'd thought. He still saw Dr. Washington, but soon, they'd be moving to monthly sessions. He still attended the group meetings, but he contributed more to them now than he had before.

All in all, his life was a lot better now than it had been, even a year ago. Even here at work, the tension that arose with every reminder of what he'd been in the past was lessening. It wasn't gone yet, and maybe it never would be, but for now, it was getting better.

His phone rang.

"Agent McGee."

"_That sounds very official."_ There was a smile in the voice.

"Who is this?" Tim asked.

"_It's...Kate...although I'm back to Jo most of the time. It's been an adjustment."_

"Kate! ...or do you want to be Jo?"

"_I don't care much anymore. It's just a name. One of my nephews has started calling me Katie Jo because I was having a hard time figuring it out. Now, I just figure that both are my names and I can answer to either one."_

"I haven't heard from you since you left Sunrise. How have you been?'

"_It's been...good and bad. I figured it would be like that when I agreed to go back to New York. The first few days were the worst."_ She laughed a little. _"Will's kids...a couple of them started crying when they saw me."_

Tim winced. That would have been hard on her self esteem.

"_But after about a week, the youngest just accepted that it was how I looked, and Will's oldest, Chase...he's in college. He's actually asked me about my...past. He's curious, and for some reason, that doesn't bother me. I made sure that Will didn't mind, and we've talked about it a lot. I stayed with Will's family for the first month, but now...now, I've got my own little apartment."_

"So you've got a job?"

Another laugh. _"Yeah. I'm the highest paid phone-answerer and janitor in New York."_

Tim smiled. "You're working at your family's salon?"

"_Yeah. I wasn't sure about it. Had a few really rough days. I drove Will to the edge, I think. But we managed to have a practical discussion about what I could do. One of the few practical discussions we've actually had. I can't be the face of the salon, not looking like I do. But I never did any of the...inhalants; so my voice sounds about the same as it ever did. I can answer phones. And I clean up at the end of the day. It's not much, but it's more than I've ever done."_

"That's great, Kate. Are you happy?"

"_Sometimes. Sometimes, it's still a long hard slog, and I wish I'd had the sense to give up. But there's a small group of NA here. I'm going to it, and it's been good for me. I'm actually going to take a class from the college starting in the fall. I don't know if it will be for me, but I think I should try it out. I never did before."_

"Wow. Kate, I'm really impressed."

"_Oh, come on, Tim."_

"No. Really. You're trying to get a life again. That's wonderful."

"_Tim, if I'm ever in need of a non-familial ego boost, I'll call you."_

"Do. ...and when you graduate from college, I want you to tell me; so I can be there."

"_Tim...thank you. Most of the time, I even mean it."_

"I understand."

"_I know. That's why I can say it. Thank you."_

"You're welcome."

"_I've got a call coming in. Bye, Tim."_

"Bye."

Tim hung up and sat back...contemplating. Maybe there would always be that little bit of a shadow. It was bigger for Kate right now, and only time would tell how much it would lift for her. It had lifted quite a bit for him. ...but it wasn't gone. Maybe it wouldn't ever be, but that was all right. He thought back to that first night when he could truly say that he was off drugs.

"Today's been a good day."

The elevator dinged, and at the same moment, his computer pinged to indicate the program was finished. Tim took a breath and got back to work.

FINIS!


End file.
